The sons of Niobe were there with the rest,- some mounted on spirited horses richly caparisoned, some driving gay chariots. Ismenos, the first-born, as he guided his foaming steeds, struck with an arrow from above, cried out, "Ah, me!"-dropped the reins and fell lifeless. Another hearing the sound of the bow, -like a boatman who sees the storm gathering and makes all sail for port,-gave the rein to his horses and attempted to escape. The inevitable arrow overtook him as he fled. Two others, younger boys, just from their tasks, had gone to the play-ground to have a game of wrestling. As they stood breast to breast, one arrow pierced them both. They uttered a cry together, together cast a parting look around them, and together breathed their last. Alphenor, an elder brother, seeing them fall, hastened to the spot to render assistance, and fell stricken in the act of brotherly duty. One only was left, Ilioneus. He raised his arms to heaven to try whether prayer might not avail.

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Spare me, ye gods!" he cried, addressing all, in his ignorance that all needed not his intercessions; and Apollo would have spared him, but the arrow had already left the string and it was too late.

The terror of the people and grief of the attendants soon made Niobe acquainted with what had taken place. She could hardly think it possible; she was indignant that the gods had dared and amazed that they had been able to do it. Her husband, Amphion, overwhelmed with the blow, destroyed himself. Alas! how different was this Niobe from her who had so lately driven away the people from the sacred rites,

and held her stately course through the city, the envy of her friends, now the pity even of her foes! She knelt over the lifeless bodies, and kissed, now one, now another of her dead sons. Raising her pallid arms to heaven, " Cruel Latona," said she, "feed full your rage with my anguish! Satiate your hard heart, while I follow to the grave my seven sons. Yet where is your triumph? Bereaved as I am, I am still richer than you, my conqueror." Scarce had she spoken, when the bow sounded and struck terror into all hearts except Niobe's alone. She was brave from excess of grief. The sisters stood in garments of mourning over the biers of their dead brothers. One fell, struck by an arrow, and died on the corpse she was bewailing. Another, attempting to console her mother, suddenly ceased to speak, and sank lifeless to the earth. A third tried to escape by flight, a fourth by concealment, another stood trembling, uncertain what course to take. Six were now dead, and only one remained, whom the mother held clasped in her arms, and covered as it were with her whole body. Spare me one, and that the youngest! O, spare me one of so many!" she cried; and while she spoke, that one fell dead. Desolate she sat, among sons, daughters, husband, all dead, and seemed torpid with grief. The breeze moved not her hair, no color was on her cheek, her eyes glared fixed and immovable, there was no sign of life about her.

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Her very tongue cleaved to the roof of her mouth, and her veins ceased to convey the tide of life. Her neck bent not, her arms made no gesture, her foot

no step. She was changed to stone, within and withYet tears continued to flow; and, borne on a whirlwind to her native mountain, she still remains, a mass of rock, from which a trickling stream flows, the tribute of her never-ending grief.

HAPPY ENDING IN REAL LIFE

By OTTO MCFEELY.

Mr. McFeely tells a story of reality. It is realism that shows the way out of one of the jungles of life and reports the first act in what appears to be the greatest reform since the public school took the place of the charity school.

In the first week of June, 1911, a woman with three children, two clinging to her skirts and one snuggling in her lap, sat in a straight-back chair before a judge in the juvenile court of Chicago. This court room was across the street from Hull house, and a block from the Mary Crane Day nursery. A dozen agents of organized charity were there to aid in solving the problem of the destitute mother. A probation officer reported on the "case." The destitute mother, in court terminology, is a "case."

Mrs. Brian was a typical "case." Eight months before her husband had been injured while at work in the steel mills. He lived a few weeks and then died. The woman had gone through the grade and high schools and had hope of a decent life. When

The identity of this mother is concealed under a fictitious name.

the accident occurred they had $500 saved up, and were about to buy a home on the installment plan.

The doctors and living expenses, before the workman died, took part of this hoard, so painfully gathered. After the funeral Mrs. Brian set out to earn a living for herself and her three children, the oldest under five years, and one an infant. Like thousands of other women, she thought of keeping roomers, and used the last of her savings to pay an installment on a furnished house in the poor district, where she expected to shelter homeless working people at so much per week.

The business failed, as it was destined to do. A woman with three children cannot keep up a rooming house even for poorly paid working people. One after another of the guests left, and this bright day in June found her in the dingy juvenile court, where she had been taken by agents of organized charity.

One of these agents reported: "Your Honor, this woman is about to be set out on the street. She can not pay her rent. But she is able to work and we plan to place her children in an institution, so she can go to work somewhere."

"I don't know what to do," said the mother to the judge. "This lady said, when I asked her for help, that I would have to put my children away' and go to work. I wish there was some other way," and she held her baby closer and tried to include the two standing at her knee in the protecting embrace.

"Did you collect anything from the steel company?" asked the judge.