i Love is the king that rules the world; and he has many ways of manifesting rulcrship. Love of self, love of one's fellows, love of power, love of wealth, love of justice—ail are different aspects of the one element-Love, At onetime it is selfish even to miserness; at another it gives itself up to the service of others, even to the death.

1iThese homely verses express Love as it seems to me. I have always been frank and open in making my feelings known to those who have come within the horizon of my heart's influence, as there seems no sense in loving people and not telling them so. Many a soul has hungered because someone has been stingy in expression. This restraint makes the world appear hateful when it is only cowardly, and many a sore heart goes its stressful way in sorrow because of Love masking itself with silence or indifference. Tell me if you love me" and make me jump with joy.

T,These simple Love songs ask your uncritical sympathy. Most of them were discovered during the bustle of business and were penned as busy time permitted, and therefore are unminted and unpolished— ore as it came from the mine. In fliem are a little gold, a little silver, and a lot of other stuff; and as there is no useless thing in the world I hope your sweet sympathy will discover some value in these efforts. Love songs are for lovers, and from these I plead a lover's blindness to their faults.

W II AT IS L O V E ?

^I want thee. 1 want to touch thee,

to hear thy liquid voice, to see thy welcome heart in thy welcome eyes.

I want to feel the thrill thy soul transmits to me. I want to enjoy that confidence which my heart

whispers to repose in thee. I want thee, I want thee greatly, I want thee infinitely.

This is love.

want thee infinitely, my beloved mother! What the sun is to the budding plant, What water is to the sighing sea, What the star is to the studded heavens, What sap is to the teeming tree, What the tree is to the ripening fruit,

What altitude and sublimity are to the mountain, What color is to the dew-decked flower, What joy and peace are to life, What grace and meekness and charity and sweetness and affection and generosity were to thee, Thou wast to me, sainted memory! I want thee forever and ever, my mother. This is love.

IfThe memory of my father I want: His aboriginal instincfls,

His hankering for the silent forest, the talkative

stream, the exciting chase, The log cabin, the rude hearth, the blazing faggot,

The coonskin tacked to the rustic door, The yielding pelts strewn upon the floor, The wooden latch and rawhide string outside, .His unerring gun on the crotches nailed to the rugged beam,

, His dreaming dogs before the embered logs, His coarse but ample fare, His hospitality crowding his means, His thrilling tales turning true from oft telling; As he was, and as thev were, tho not what 1 would have ordained,

I want, because they were his things, his ways. This is love.

want thee, friend, sweetheart, comrade, wife, Thou mother of my children, *

Helper along the highways and byways of life. As the guiding star is to the mariner, As the soft winds are to summer, As the serene moon is to the night, As fragrance is to the bursting bud, As the coursing blood is to the body, As freedom is to peace and contentment, So thou art to me, and as I want thee, gentle spouse.

To leave thee the right of the rose to follow the

bent of thine own nature,

i «

To assume no authority over thee,

To be kind to thee and courtly,

To respect thy whims, desires, wishes, thots,

inclinations, And to be loyal to thee: This is love.

*[I want my beloved children. As the plant wants buds for its fruition, As the tree wants fruit for its sequence. As the flower wants fragrance for its passion, As the river wants banks for its flowing to the

sea, I want them. With their cares and their cries and their cost, With their joys and their sorrows and imperfections I want them. I want their kisses and caresses, their interest in me,

Their pride of me, their anxiety when I come

not at the waiting hour; Even with their rudeness and destrudiveness I want them.

And with their gentility and sweetness and beauty;

In their rompings, their savagery, their wild whoops I want them.

With the sheen of the sun in their eyes,

# ⁹

The bloom of excitement in their cheeks, The spring of the waves in their muscles, And in the impetuosity and folly interwoven

with youth and inexperience, In the repose of relaxation, In the serenity of sleep, With my mind and my heart and my soul I want them, my children. This is love.

My brothers and sisters I want; And their kindred aflfedion, invigorating as

the sea's succoring breezes; Their gratitude and thoughtfulness which

surround me as the atmosphere; Their contagious gaiety and debonair and bounding heartiness;

The magnetic manliness of my brothers, The womanliness of my winsome sisters, Their art and their chick and their tact; As they are and as they will be, I want them. This is love.

% My feminine friends and chums I want. As a shipwrecked mariner wants water in a

waste of water I want them. As the sea wants sweet, clean sand for its shores

I want them, And their friendly greetings, their warm handshakes, sweet solicitations, gay sallies, firm reserve and disarming frankness; To keep their simple confidences, to be true to their interests, to be loyal to their faith in me,

To meet them as equals in social rights, To look with candor in their trustful eyes, To ad as a breakwater at sea between the w^rhelming waves of malice, jealousy,

prudery, ignorance, suspicion, and conventionality, When to be so lessens no effort to self-pro-tection;

To work with them against the harmfulness of human bats who cannot see in the rosy light of the coming day, When men and women will be equally free, And to go forth with them, a gay, confiding

comradeship, Fall of the buoyant freedom of the future, To meet the rising sun that will light our social darkness,

And to greet it with open hearts, like waterlilys

sprayed with the dew of kindness, And drink invigorating draughts of the tonic

air of modest self-reliance, Author of magnetic maidenhood, womanly

women, loving wives and motherly mothers. This I want, and want is love.

^f My masculine friends and comrades I want.

I want their firm, eager handgrasp,

Their loving hearts refle&ed by winning smiles,

Their purposeful eyes sparkling with amity and fellowship.

Like thistles I want them, injuring no one who invades not.

I want their golden re&itude which inspires honesty,

Their inbred trustfulness that stimulates confidence,

Who claim no more than they are willing to grant,

Who speak the language of wisdom and understanding,

Whose sincerity is persistent as time, * Who are as generous as nature,

As frank as the light of day,

As tolerant as uncertainty,

As broad as the ocean,

As joyous as springtime.

Even with their foibles and follies and failures I want them.

I want to aid them when needy,

To guide them when groping,

• s

To succor them when sorrowing.

This is love.

^f And the things of the world I want—

The land and the water and the air and the sunshine;

The flowers, the fruits, the nuts, the grains and the grasses—all the flora of the world.

And I want the fauna of the world—

The things of the air and the land and the waters

That fly and creep and crawl and swim and burrow in the bowels of the earth—

All that live, grow, feel, think;

And these I want shared with my fellows as they need

(As the sun shares light and warmth),

As equal owners in the use of things,

From which they may grow, produce, bring forth

The hovels and palaces, «

The food and drink,

The raiment of simplicity and adornment, And all that cause comfort and happiness and woe and death,

As each chooses for himself. And I want life sacred,

• rights sacred, freedom sacred, And I want joy, peace, justice, happiness, affection, nobility, dignity, honor, meekness, fraternity, comradeship, And the divine of all things for every one in the

world? This is love.

I WISH I WERE. I wish I were a thought of love,

And your sweet heart my welcome home, Where as a worn and weary dove I'd come for rest and cease to roam.

I wish I were a drop of dew

That glistens in the morning glare, And vou a rose of blushincr hue

* O

And I could kiss your lips so fair.

I wish I were contentment's soul,

With easy grace and calmness true, I'd make your worldly wishes whole, Your worldly life but gold and blue.

I wish I were high heaven's gate

On willing hinges swinging wide, When you had done the will of fate I'd ope for you to come inside.-

TELL ME IF YOU LOVE ME.

Oh, if you love me tell me so And ease my heart of weighty woe And with assurance make it glow.

Oh, if you love me tell me, sweet. A love that's dumb is incomplete And golden joys thus meet defeat.

Oh, if you love me make me feel That you are heedful, fond and leal, And that I'm needful to your weal.

If you have flowers for me, dear, Wait not to place them on my bier, But let their fragrance soothe me here.

Oh, if you love me tell me so In velvet words with accents low, And do the things that make me know.

I LOVE YOU.

I dream of you both night and day, I long for you when you're away, And hear my soul in fragrance say:

⁴⁴1 love you."

When care o'erspreads your saintly face, And troubles rob you of your grace, I press you fond in loves embrace—

I love you.

When you are gay and light of feet, And time so grudgingly is fleet, Smiles dancing round your eyes so sweet,

I love you.

No honied wish gives me such bliss As loyal lips with eager kiss, And deep as Neptunes wild abyss

I love you.

I dream of you both night and day, I long for you when I'm away,

And hear your soul in guerdon say:

" I love vou."

ACTIONS LOUDER SPEAK THAN WORDS

Like soft south winds- in budding May

Your words of love come to mv ear;

* *

They're whispered low and sweet are they, But adions louder speak, my dear.

Your loving kiss, your fond caress,

The clinging arm my neck engirds, Your care my heart not to depress Say actions louder speak than words.

The cooing dove unto its mate

Its fondness shows as become birds, And true love wins to compensate, For a&ions louder speak than words.

Let, then, your words and acts agree.

Do not neglect and afterwards With deep sighs say you longed for me, For actions louder speak than words.

^l5

TO MY FRIEND INDEED.

In the Vale of Pleasure I've built a den

Where the sweetest wishes grow,

Where, in deep desire's deepest glen,

Soft sunbeams ever glow;

Fresh fruits of friendship everywhere

Entice the taste, and fill;

And the paths of peace cross here and there

And contentment comes at will.

I've made a cabin of logs of love, My heart chinks the cracks from cold, And the larder I've filled, below and above, With all the joys it can hold; Its fireplace burns the tell-tale wood, And the flames paint pictures rare That bring to memory a pleasing mood, And griefs dissolve in air.

I've made a conveyance that carries the heart Wherever it wills to go,

If on the ground, in the clouds gay mart,

Or in the waters flow;

Its motive power is a moment's thought,

Its body of silvery dew,

And in satisfaction all this was wrought

With the wish of pleasing you.

I've romped the dreams of Pleasure Vale

Collecting the richest of spoils,

So I could place them within the pale

Of your friendship's silken toils;

I've hunted its glens and I've climbed its hills

For the game of love and leal,

And the net result is the wish that thrills

For your ever-increasing weal.

IF I BUT COULD. • If I but could

You would not, comrade, sweat thy blood And with a limping soul Go through this fleeting world With aches and wearied thews, Anxieties that wreck thy peace And make a throeful hell Where naught should be but joy, If I but could.

If I but could

I'd ope the way to work

Without a servile plea to shadows

O'er thy path cast by conceits thine own.

The land, the sea, the sunshine and the air

Used by none other would be thine to use,

And what dear Nature ceded to thy stress

Would be thy very own, If I but could.

If I but could

I'd wean thy mind of myths

And have thee stand upon the is and now.

I'd have thee seek within thyself

For that which makes thee blest,

And all the things besides

Would but auxilliary be

To thy chief happiness,

If I but could.

If I but could I'd make thee free, As God is said to be, So you could choose your way To good or ill, and thus not blindly go astray,

As those who know and power have to choose

Cannot go wrong, and thy sweet will Would mother to thy wishes be, If I but could.

EMMA'S BABY.

Born, October 26, 1909, a boy, to Mr. and Mrs.

Walter E. Oxtoby.

" Emma has a baby ! " Was Granddad Schmidty's shout, Slapping me upon the back, My teeth near knocking out.

Emma has a baby, A little weenie thing, Acting just as lordly As tho he were a king.

Emma has a baby, A really-squeally boy. Gee! but he's a dandy To give so many joy.

Mamma's doing nicely, Papa 's very well, And Grandad is as proud As any prince in hell.

Grandma's face is smiling Full of rosy joy;— Golly, Emma's baby Is a rolly-polly boy!

Aunties all are dancing,— None of them are still;— Did Dame Nature really know Of their dearest will ?

Hey ! someone look to Granddad, Big as a balloon. If he keeps on swelling He '11 surely bust up soon.

Well, here's to Emma's baby ! May he keep each one glad, Be comforting to parents And manly as Granddad ! Detroit, October 27, igog.

MY MAMMA'S BEAU.

A little pet's prattle.

Sav, do vou know, I really think

V ⁷ ✓ ¹ J

My ma s in love with pa ? And sometimes, too, I have amind That pa s in love with ma.

When he comes home she drops her woik

And runs and kisses him; And he just laughs and hugs her tight And says she's his dear ⁴⁴ Jim,*'

When she ^?s away pa always looks

So lonesome like and sad, But when he sees her coming home He seems so mighty glad.

When papa's in his working den

Ma wants to be there, too, Ahelping him to do the things He's trying for to do.

He never bosses her around, But lets her have her wav; And he just does as he s amind, And she don't nothing sav.

W ¥

My mamma thinks my papa is

The greatest man alive; And papa acts as tho ma is The honev in the hive.

I thot that onlv story folks

Loved one another so; And so it seems so queer to me

That pa is mammas beau.

MY LOVES.

[ love the grass, I love the trees, I love the flowers gav, I love the lakes, the lilting brooks Upon their tripping way;

I love the dales, the moody fens, The mountains brave and high That in their grandeur lift their heads And comrade with the sky; I love the meek, the mighty streams, Enjoy the reckless falls; I love the winds that toy my hair, The cyclones in their brawls, The hurricanes that trim the trees Of burdens dead and done, Wise Natures brusk but cogent way Unfitness to outrun. I love the country, love the town, The ocean's noble roar; I love the snow, the lulling rain, The sunshine I adore. I love the maker of the day, Whose smiles upon me beam; I love the stars, night's dancing fays, I love the moon serene;

I love the night's soft silences

That soothe my tired nerves

And for the struggles of the world

My energy conserves;

I love the day's inclemencies,

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Its gentleness and calm,

That break the gray monotony

And make of life a psalm.

I love the world, its toils and broils,

Its potency for weal,

And faith I have kind future's heart

Man's freedom will reveal;

I love my wife and children dear,

I love the working clan,

And hope the Fates will succor all—

I love my fellowman;

I love the north, I love the south,

The rosy east, the west,

But of all the loves I ever loved--

I love myself the best

THE NEW YEAR. We slip thru time as a ship full rigged

Glides thru an oily sea, Full tilt for the grave, that unknown port, Unknown the consignee.

Each year goes by as but a day,

We in the dark pursue A hope that makes for happiness—-What I am wishing you.

WHEN JIM 'S AWAY.

The house is large as an open field, As lonely as a midnight grave, As restless as the nervous wave,

When "Jim's" away.

No smiling face, no loving grace, No wifely kiss, no fond embrace, No waiting bliss at the close of day,

When "Jim's" away.

When she is gone with the noisy boy, Our busy boy, our romping boy, I cannot play, there is no joy, And things go wrong, and things annoy.

When "Jim's" away.

Whv is it so that love will go

✓ o

To where it wills, despite one's say, Like a willful rill, whose ripples flow Now fast, now slow, for weal or woe,

Here shallows thin, there waters deep, As my feelings are

When "Jim's" away?

The house is large as an empty church, As lonely as a woodland way, As restless as the dashing spray,

When "Jims" away.

<v>

WALHALLA. For loved Walhalla's wooded wilds, Its lulling lakfclet's liquid sigh, Its tonic breezes bearing balm Which all one's ailments nullify And cram the soul with youthful cheer, My native longings loudly cry.

O kind Walhalla's welcome hall, Where friendly hands greet comrade hands, Where soul confides to trustful soul Before the hearthstones storied brands, Where frescoed walls index the host, You're pulling on my bosom strands.

Beneath that rugged Norway pine, Whose arms extend as though to save Some soul rough-tossed by storms of care, As would a sturdy wrecker brave,— On fair Walhalla's restful shore, There let me live, there dig my grave!

FRIENDS.

I look at the sun And the sun looks at me And we both are won, For we both are free. Sweet freedom makes friends "Who in harmony are, And Love forefends, As night fends the star.

3°

LET 'S HELP.

Let us all greet the budding year

With hearts a sunny glow; Let us each give our fellows cheer

As thru the world they go; Their burdens sure are quite enuf

Whate'er their stations be, So o'er the places steep and ruf

Let s help without a plea, For when we wait the asking

Help's sweetest flavor s lost, And the joyousness of giving Is worth less than it has cost.

IF DEATH IS SLEEP.

If'tis but sleep, serene and dreamless, This Death to which all things must go, Then no dreaded goblins fret my soul.

In the skein of doubt which enmeshes all—

This entanglement of dark uncertainty—

If we'd been taught this restful view

The energies we spend to dodge

The frights of hell which faithless ones have stored

For us who live as Fate decrees we must

Would be reserved for when the time was come

For sufferance or evasion,

And young souls would be unharrowed

With the thought of pain unavoidable,

And the joyousness of now unmarred

With the ugliness of fearing the Power of Powers,

Fear being the ugliest of uglies.

No irresponsible, insensate clay Turns the potter s deftful hands athwart To make an ass when he'd produce a god;

No prayer of all the beggars of the world

Can rouse the morning sun in the whited north;

No wail of men turn paths heavenward that lead to hell.

Fate points the unerring finger to the way of things,

And human will is but a fancv of its law.

But if Death is sleep, then let it come when 'twill

And I will welcome it, for I love sleep;

And if wakefulness there be sometime, somewhere,

1 shall arise afreshed and glad,

As a morning-glory greets the glory of the morning.

WHO TRULY LIVE. Nor lands, nor flocks, nor gold

A noble soul bewitch, And only they who hold The graces sweet are rich.

Who work and love and give

Of equal freedom's store Are they who truly live, Are bless6d evermore.

I TRIED AND FAILED. I've tried to fill your mutinous request To not for favors pray nor let unrest Sit heavy on my heart.

Unweaned desire will not permit me to And wins my hope with irresisting woo— With zealous yearnings smart.

As cloudy days woof into darker weeks My straining wishes warp, and weakness streaks

The texture of my will.

And tho your manna missive falleth not, Omission tells me true you cannot wot I hunger for it still.

TI-IE PATH OF MUST. The flowers come in their garments gay

And dance in the winds with rhvthmic swav,

> ^ ⁷

They leer and laugh, they please and tease, And gracefully bow in languid ease; 'I'hey fill their mission, droop and die, And thus with natures law comply.

The trees and grass and rocks and rills Just come and go as nature wills. They have no say what they shall do, No more than I or he or you, As everything, tho some distrust, Cannot but pace the path of must.

We take what comes with grace or frown, As we are philosopher or clown; And thots invade our plastic minds As fatefullv as come the winds. And no way else can my mind see That man enjoys sweet Liberty.

SING HEY TODAY.

Sing hey today, sing ho, hello! And merry be where'er you go; Today be glad, tomorrow sad, So joy will sorrow sweetly clad.

Heigh-ho tomorrow, heigh today; Let gladness anguish turn to play, Be light your heart as snowy down And sunny smiles dispel your frown.

Sing ho today, soho for aye; Black grief corrodes the heart away When long it bides within the breast, Or there moroseness builds her nest.

Sing hey today, sing O hello! Says one whose heart has wrung with w Sing heigh, ho, hey! be glad for ay, And make of life a long hey-day!

37 ■

MY GENEROSITY. To you I give, whoe'er you are, Where'er you are I send with glee The guiding light of freedom's star If from oppression's dark you'd flee!

I grant to all, tho black or white; I yield to yellow and to red— The right to climb ambitions hight, . The right to freely earn their bread.

To you who toil in thrall and dirt, To you who dare the dangerous seas, To slaves in households coarse and pert— I now bestow the grit that frees!

Who drink privation's bitter dregs, Who list to rules discordant chimes, Who walk upon dependent legs— I bring the ken of social crimes.

To you who've unearned wealth in grasp, To you who strive for unjust gain, The will I give to loose your clasp, From over-reaching to refrain.

To you who dare I render fame; To you who do, award success; To you who slink, in sin and shame, Endow with true courageousness.

I give to all what they deserve Of gladness, gloom, prosperity; I give the blessings you may observe That come with equal Liberty!

With these you get quite all you need; With these you give quite all you can; Your efforts meet their rightful meed, You'll live in peace with your fellowman.

IT 'S JUST WHAT YOU DO.

What if you be saint or vilest of sinners, How would this affect the grub for our dinners Were you the best cook in all this great land But failed to get busy at hungers command?

The wheels in your head might whiz and might whirl,

The belts go around with a hum and a swirl, But what good would that do those who now exist

If round they kept going but ground no good grist?

You may talk as you will, you may dream

dulcet dreams, But its still what you do in good or bad schemes That tell what you are and demonstrate true That thinking's all right, but its better to do.

It's not what you think, nor yet what you sav, That cuts any ice or makes any hay, But just what you do, be this good or .bad, That sorrow induces or makes people glad.

THE LEVELER.

Why do we rudely pull and push and punch,

And grab and cheat and weaker folk enthrall, Beneath our heel dear babes and women crunch,

When death the democrat just levels all?

I TURN TO THEE. When this old world goes wrong And sorrows come full strong, I need but turn to thee. Here I am sure to find A pleasing state of mind

When I but turn to thee. If strolling on the street Illusions lure my feet

I need but turn to thee. Sweet solace here I get And vanished is regret

When I but turn to thee.

TO A NEGLIGENT FRIEND. Tho thou wert unkind to me My heart is full of love for thee; And tho thou treat me with negled And leave me joyless and abjed My soul in grace forgiveth thee, Still am I thy loyal devotee.

CURB NOT MY FREEDOM..

Whateer thou wouldst do for me

In thy benignant will, Curb not my native freedom And be my comrade still.

A WINGED KISS.

I blow a kiss Of loving bliss O'er arid sand And mountains grand And flowered lea To thee, love, thee.

LIBERTY. " But what, pray tell, is Liberty ?"

The eager mob intrude. It ^?s banished want for you and me, And we the world include.

A loveless heart is a Wandering Jew over the

world of feeling— Wretchedness walking his weary way weighted with wretchedness.

Friendship, justice, sympathy, truth

For you and me; And for the whole wide world, forsooth, To make man free.

WHEN LOVE 'S GONE WRONG.

When you feel that the bottom s dropped out of the world,

That the sun looketh dark and the daylight dim,

When the food that vou eat turns to poison and gall,

And voitr blood runneth cold and the world looketh grim—

Then love s gone wrong.

When vou feel that you are in the depths of the sea,

And the goblins of ocean torment you with awe;

When vour nerves are as fickle as leaves in *

the wind,

And your heart is as tho hungry wolves at it gnaw—

When you feel that you've lost every friend in ^ the world,

That life is a waste and your dear ones all dead;

When each thot is a barb that sinks deep in the soul,

And all that give joy and sweet happiness fled—

Then love's gone wrong.

When each pore in the flesh seems with molten lead filled,

And each hair of your head is a bar heated

«r

reel;

Wh en the air that you breathe suffocates and torments,

And vou long for the end—that vou wish

v o *

yourself dead—

THINK GOOD THOUGHTS.

If you would not fearful be, Think not fear;

If you would but cheerful be, Think but cheer;

If you would successful be, Think success;

If you would distressful be, Think distress.

Thoughts are things, and things that For ill or good.

So no thoughts but good let dwell Beneath your hood.

. PRITHEE. Give me, my love, the welcome word;

Give me the morning smile; Give me the sweetheart kiss, my bird, The hand devoid of guile.

Give me free entrance to your heart,

Take down the bars, my dear; There let me take a lover's part With all its hallowed cheer.

WHY DO WE PROMISE?

Why promise always to love and obey

When no one can know what the future will

bring—

When no one can tell if a year or a day

Will leave one the strength to promises cling?

How know you the tricks Dan Cupid may do With your own good heart in days yet to

come?

How know you your words you'll not sometime rue,

And wish that your lips had been wiser or

dumb?

Love does not stay when the mood comes to go

To where it may reap dear desire's sweet fill, And no one can hold it when it would do so, As love is not ruled by dictum or will.

Deceive if you may, tho the heart mav rebel,

J J ' v ⁷

And a slave to dishonor make of yourself; But love is no vassal when not 'neath the spell, Nor can it be won with pleadings or pelf.

A MAY DAY SONG

How fresh and fragrant, florid, fair; How bright and gay and free from care, Sweet blossoms strewing rich and rare, Is blushing, blooming May.

To bask all day in your soft smile, To warm the heart in your sweet guile, Bring joy and peace and bliss the while. Bright, blushing, blooming May.

The languid streams more silent still, The woodland lulls more (juiet fill, The wild birds* songs are now less shrill— 'Tis blushing, blooming May!

Ah! could you often come each year And life absorb your atmosphere And fill us with your charming cheer, Blest, blushing, blooming May!

TTTE labadie^WOYL^TS

NOW READY:

THE RED FLAG, A Little Piece of Paper and Other Verses. By Joseph A. Labadie. 50c, 75c, and $1, according to binding. WHAT IS LOVE ? and Other Fancies. By Joseph A. Labadie. (Verses.) 50c, 75c and $1, according to binding.

SONG OF SELF. By Jo Labadie. 5 cents. WHAT THINK YE OF CHRIST? By D. A. Roberts. Verile verses. 10c a dozen, 50c a 100. Good socialist stuff.

These Booklets are home made, having been done in our little nonprofessional Shop, where things with wood, bark, leather, paper, type and press, and so on, are made as a recreation from the "demnition grind" of the capitalistic system of industry, in which the Clock is a warn-ing witch and the Boss a goad at the treadmill. Unique leather handbags, baskets, calendars, etc., are produced principally for love, but some of them are sold to get stuff to make more with. They will boost who are m sympathy with this modest little enterprise, in which the boy and the girls and mamma and I, during spare hours, have lots of enjoyment schooling the hands and mind, printing our own pieces, binding them into Booklets, painting chinaware, doing fancy work, sewing, and singing songs for love and money. Those who can might furnish the "dough'' for those who can't. Pick out what you want and send your address anyway; it'll be all right. Whoever you are, whatever you are, where-ever you are, I wish you well.

THE LABADIE SHOP,

t^HHl^ 74 Buchanan Street, Detroit, Mich.

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