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.f- would fly to the side of the cage and chirp at us as though he were asking if we couldn't help and then he would go back again beside her, and you would hear the low notes in his throat, but she was too ill to care and before the following morning she was dead. "I could tell you all about his piti ful grief, but, though he was only a bird, I never like to think of that,, for he neither ate nor drank nor sang nor paid heed to anything until his little heart burst and we buried him beside the little lady, but the point I want to make, and which perhaps is very apparent to you, is how well the little lady understood the art of winning and holding affection." And my English lady leaned back in her chair and awaited my expres sion of approval. But somehow I couldn't give it. For, panoramically, I seemed to see the lives of the women of the two generations-the generation of my English lady, when girls did not' work in stores and in offices, when they had leisure for reading, for mu sic, for all of the finer and sweeter things of life, and when they had the love of so many relatives and friends. And the girl of today, hurrying along the street in the morning, pushed and jostled as she tries to enter a car, with not a pleasant word when she enters the store or the. of fice, a day of toil that blends with it no -sunshine, a tasteless meal in the evening, and the solitude of a rooming house where people live to gether and yet have not one thing in common. And, as the picture faded away, I wondered if it is such a marvelous thing that girls are reaching out a little too eagerly for companionship, for love, and for the protection they imagine marriage will bring, and if the little lady sparrow would have been bo independent had she been left to forage for her food and to shiver in the cold streets instead of being a pampered pet. THE BANKER i By Berton Braley. The Banker sits in his office chair, immersed in a terrible cloud of care, and he looks about with a glance, intent on getting not less than eight per cent. The woes of the nation are on his back. He's always Baying that trade is slack and murmuring 1 low, in gloomy tones, "Well, times are hard. I must call my loans." In fear and trembling the borrow er stands and pleads for money with outstretched hands. The Banker mutters, "Well, cash is tight and I don't find any relief in sight, so I really don't see exactly how I can let i you have any money now. Of course, ' it is only fair to state that a slight I advance in the interest rate would ! be the sort of a clrcumstan.ce which I might induce us to take a chance!" The poor old Banker, his lot is sad. He's always worried and seldom glad. To him the outlook is always punk and he lives in a state of chronic bunk, counting his balances o'er and o'er lending at eight per cent, pay ing four. Yet I doubt if lfD fret an, awful lot if I had the place the Bank er's got! o o AN EASY WAY TO CAN FRUIT By Caroline Coe. An old English women watched me can some cherries one day and, as I took the hot cans from the pan of boiling water, she Baid: "Let me show you a new way. Have the cans dry and perfectly clean and clear. Wring a heavy towel out of ice water. "Wrap every part of the can , sides and bottom. Set this on a ' china plate, put a silver knife inside the can. When you first begin to fill the can with fruit pour it in slow ly up to about one-quarter of the height of can. Fill can, put on top and seal tight Have two towels in process, so each may become per fectly cold." I have used this method for years and find I break no more cans than in the old way.