The clouds received it and the pathless night;
    Swift as a flame, its eager force unspent,
  We saw no limit to its daring flight;
    Only its pilot knew the way it went,
  And how it pierced the maze of flickering stars
  Straight to its goal in the red planet Mars.

  So to the entrance of that fiery gate,
    Borne by no current, driven by no breeze,
  Knowing no guide but some compelling fate,
    Bold navigators of uncharted seas,
  Courage and youth went proudly sweeping by,
  To win the unchallenged freedom of the sky.

* * * * *

[Illustration:  Curate (to unfailing supporter). “OH, MISS TOOTSBY, IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU HERE AGAIN.  IT WOULDN’T SEEM LIKE A JUMBLE SALE WITHOUT YOU.”]

* * * * *

HEART-TO-HEART TALKS.

(Enter PASHA and the Sultan of TURKEY.)

The Sultan. Then you want me to press the GERMAN KAISER to come to Constantinople and pay me a visit.  Is that it?

Enver. Yes, your Majesty, that is about it.  It would produce a splendid effect on the populace and would electrify the soldiers.

The Sultan. But I’ve already told you that I cordially dislike this KAISER of yours.  Wherever he goes he turns everything upside down, and there’s not a moment’s peace or repose for anybody.  He must have reviews of troops morning, noon and night, and it’s all quite useless, for our Generals tell me that he doesn’t really understand anything about soldiers and their movements.  You know they’ve had to keep him away from the fighting, both in France and Russia, because he would insist on giving the most absurd orders, and when things didn’t go right immediately he always broke out into shouting and cursing, and praying and crying until his Staff felt so ashamed of him and themselves that they didn’t know which way to look.  There’s never any knowing what a man like that will do.  He’s as likely as not to want to preach a sermon in St. Sophia, or to ride his horse up the steps of the Palace.

Enver. These are certainly faults, but they are the faults of an enthusiastic nature.

The Sultan. Well, I don’t like that kind of enthusiastic nature.  I prefer something quieter.  Besides, I am told that his behaviour in the house and his table-manners are dreadful.  He’s quite capable, if he doesn’t like a dish, of throwing it at the attendants.  Then he gets so angry when people don’t agree with him; the least contradiction makes him purple, absolutely purple, with passion.  My dear ENVER, you would have to pretend you knew nothing about Turkey when you talked with him—­at any rate nothing in comparison with his knowledge—­and I’m sure you wouldn’t like that; nobody would.  No, I can’t say the prospect of having him here as my guest allures me, but of course, if you say it must be done, I’m ready to sacrifice myself.  Only I warn you it will spoil everything for me to have him here prancing about in a Turkish uniform.