"Did you do anythin' to yer brotherin-law fer tellin' on ye?" asked one of the group. "Oh, yas, Ah'll gat even by heem too," replied Jules, "but Ah'll haff to go to work now so Ah'll can tell you 'bout dat, so Ah'll guess dat story'll haff to wait for some nother tam w'en Ah'll a'nt so busy."

I

FOUND them grouped in a corner of Mattapan square where the fat stone wall curves around to the river bridge-almost seventy kiddies from the West end of Boston bound for the Fresh Air camp in Canton. Adjutant Antrim and two other officers of the Salvation Army were in charge of them.

Rough? Not a bit of it. A few lively ones danced about on the sidewalk, too excited to keep their bodies still. The rest stood quietly or sat in a nice proper row on the wall, awestruck with the delight of anticipation. It was plain that they were on the best of terms with the Army folk. Only twice did I hear anything like a reprimand, and then I felt the words were too gentle for so harsh a name— once a tiny boy wandered off the curb towards the car tracks and Sergeant-major Lucey darted anxiously after him. Miss Lucey is Sundayschool teacher to some of these children and they love her devotedly. Another boy, quite a big one, forgot his traveling manners and started a good-natured battle for possession of the ball some of his companions had been tossing. Adjutant Antrim calmed the combatants as easily as W. J. Bryan would like to calm the melee in Europe.

Somebody had provided a bag of peanuts and most of the children were munching them. One small lassie seated on the stone wall fashioned a pair of ear-rings by making a cleft in the end of two big shells. In a shrill voice she begged Adjutant Antrim to put them on her ears. held aside the mass of brown locks that tumbled over her cheeks, while he adjusted a shell upon the lobe of each ear. Then she sat so still and meditative that a boy announced teasingly: "They hurt!"

She

"They pinch a little," the child replied with dignity. All the laughing onlookers grew respectful.

I remembered the remark of a pretty acquaintance a few years ago. Her collar stays scratched and the collar was tight. She glanced into a mirror, looked relieved, and said, "It's all right. I can bear any amount of pain in order to look nice.'

It proved to be an easy matter to make friends with this youthful martyr to the cause of beauty, and through her with all the party. You had only to show a little affection for them and they loved you. If you could make boats out of a combination of peanut shell, toothpick and paper, and also tell about the wonderful people in Africa and the South Sea

Islands who wear coils of telegraph wire for necklaces and bracelets and vegetable cans suspended from ears and noses,-why, then you were a sort of fairy princess! The martyred one promptly threw her boat over the wall-to see "if it would really sail in the river." Ill-fated craft! Its frail hull lies somewhere in dark depths at the restless Neponset! Brigadier Sheppard joined the party when the special car arrived. from Canton. He is a genial soul for whom children have an instinctive friendliness. You marked how they rivalled for the privilege of sitting or walking beside him.

You might have expected a wild. scramble for seats when the car slid to a stop in the square. These children are all culled out of those districts where so many must play in the kind of uncouth atmosphere that made Mary Alice's girlhood wretched in the "Little Sir Galahad" story. There are many "Lem Browns" in such districts. Yes these boys and girls behaved much better than the average picnic party of

grown-ups.

At sharp ten the "lovely ride" began. We slipped across the bridge and on toward the green-blue mystery of the Blue Hills. I had found a space to sit on the front seat; it was an open car. And there beside me was my little lady of the ear-rings. She nestled up shyly and I knew we were friends to stay.

"My ears don't pinch now," she said. She told me her name readily -Dorofee Louise G, and her age just six. No, she hadn't been to school yet. Was she going next year? No; this year. Well, I meant next fall, next month. No, right away when school begins again, vewy, vewy soon. You see, "next" is a term of farawayness, even "next week" being quite misty with distance since you are an entity of the Now.

We were not far on our adventure before pelting drops dashed into our faces. But who cared? Dorothy Louise wouldn't be persuaded to put

on her coat yet-her thin little blue coat that she had arranged so thoughtfully over her knees and mine. Why, I didn't know what warm things she had to wear. She plucked at a second gingham dress whose edge could be pulled up at the neck till it showed above the outer one

On the other side of Dorothy Louise sat Joseph-not "Joe," remembera smart little Italian lad of eight. If you could add "light lightning" I guess you'd be smart. I guess you'd be smart. Then John, a quiet colored boy of eleven; Mary, Dorothy's sister, and Helen. It was pleasant to learn each other's names right away; we could talk so much better, you know.

When Mattapan lay behind us and the green quite hemmed us in, the impulse to the impulse to shout grew imperative. You know how it is when you are off for a holiday. Some-one started the "Army cry" and even Dorothy Louise joined in. Here are

the words:

"One, two, three, who are we? We are the Army; don't you see! Are we it? Well, I guess we are! Salvation Army! Rah, rah, rah!” Then they sang, rollicking music such as youth loves, but the words of hymns. For instance:

"Brighten the corner where you are,

Someone far from harbor you may guide across the bar;

Brighten the corner where you are."

When I heard the familiar notes of

"Tipperary" I thought they had made one exception. But the treble was quickly caught by voices near me and I made out the words:

"On the ocean of love and mercy
To the homeland I go;

I'm determined to trust the journey
To the safest hands I know.
Goodby sin and folly; farewell worldly

care,

For the port of glory lies before me

And my home is there."

Are you wondering how the children know these remodeled songs? I inquired about it. You see, the Salvation Army workers do not deContinued on page 213

ARCHITECT'S DRAWING OF THE NEW BUILDING OF THE MASSACHUSETTS INSTITUTE OF TECHNOLOGY This and other illustrations in this series are presented by courtesy of Stone & Webster