10 O Don Quixote is probably the best-known prose story at least by name of any ever written It has supplied the English lan guage w-ith a host of proverbs and with the words "quixotism" and "quixotic." Its Spanish is the standard of elegance In that language and whole libraries have been written in commentaries upon it. Its publication Is supposed to have had ft derided effect upon the Spanish character. Hvron Bays: "Cervantes laughed Spain'a chivalry away" but that was ft harsh Judg ment. Yet, celebrated as the story of Don Quixote is, comparatively few whose native tongue was not Spanish, have ever read it through: and of all the adventures of the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure that of the w indmills is the only one that Is really gen erally known. It is a voluminous work, and wonderfully fascinating though It Is in the original, it must he confessed It Is ft trifle tedious in most translations. IN one of the villages of La Mancha lived Alonzo Quixano, a single gentle man of 50. spare of body and meager of face, whose modest Income supported him In frugal comfort until, to fill up his spare time, which extended over moat of the year, he began the reading of the romances of chivalry. The continued reading of these books finally turned the poor gentleman's head, though In all other matters he had an unusual shrewd ness of understanding, and it was with more alarm than surprise that his two cronies, the curate and Master Nicholas, the barber, learned one day that Alonzo had dubbed himself Don Quixote de la Mancha, and set out upon his aged and bony steed with the avowed Intention of reviving the practice of knight errantry. He had donned an old suit of armor which had belonged to his ' great-grandfather, and as the helmet wanted a visor he had constructed one of pasteboard. As the steeds of all knights errant must have names, the Don had called his "Ro zlnante" a combination of "rozln," a drudge horse, and 'ante-' before, which might be held to signify that while the dejected animal had formerly been a drudge horse, he was now before all drudge horses. A knight errant not in love Is unthink able, and this at first presented a seem ingly Insuperable obstacle to Don Quix ote's ambition's. But, fortunately, he re membered that years ago he had for a short time fancied himself enamored of a peasant girl In the neighboring town of Toboso. It was annoying that he should have forgotten her name, but he pitched upon Dulctnea as being a good sounding one Dulclnea del Toboso and she at once became In his disordered fan cy the "peerless princess" for whose fa vor lie sighed and whose charms it was his duty to proclaim. The knight's first sally did not take him far from home: for, falling in with a company of traveling merchants, whom he attempted to charge because they were not prompt enough In acknowledg ing the virtues and charms of Dulclnea, Rozlnante, being new to the chivalry business, stumbled and fell In mid-career and the Don. besides being injured by the animal rolling on him. was so soundly be labored by the merchants that he had to be carried home and put to bed for much needed repairs. The priest and the barber burned or confiscated the Don's whole library of chivalrous romances In the vain hope that when he got about again he woulff forget his mania. But It was of no use; and before long the Don had taken to the road again, this time accompanied by a neighboring rustic, an honest but shallow-brained person, to whom he promised the government of an Island, such being the usual reward of faithful squires. This squire. Sancho Panza by name, was as short and stout as his master was long and lean, and he rode forth to val orous deeds upon his beloved ass. Dapple. All the squires Don Quixote had ever read of rode upon horses, but even a knight errant must sometimes yield to the exigencies of a situation. Don Quixote had patched up his helmet and provided himself with a new lance, and now as he proceeded over the plains of Montlel and the sun was rising, he cried out to the squire: "Look yonder, friend sancho. where thou mayest dis cover somewhat more than thirty mon strous giants whom I Intend to encounter and slay." "What giants?" said- Sancho. "Those thou seest yonder with their long arms." replied the knight. "Look you. sir.-' replied the squire, "those are not giants, but windmills." "It is very evident." retorted the Don, "that you do not know much about chiv alry." and clapping spurs to Rozlnante he went charging full tilt at one of the windmills, the sails of which were Just beginning to revolve In the morning breeze. The whirling sail caught the lance, broke It to splinters and sent horse and rider rolling over and over on the plain. "God save us"' cried Sancho, as he rame running up. "Did I not warn you that those were windmills, and no one could mistake them for anything else who had not the like in his head?" Don Quixote, sitting ruefully on the ground, managed to say: "Peace. Tou are not versed in matters of war. A wicked magician has changed these giants into windmills so as to deprive me of the glory of subduing them." They passed the night under a tree, from which the knight tore a withered branch to serve in place of his broken lance, and on the morrow resumed their adventurous quest. After several minor adventures they saw advancing toward them two monks of the Order of St. Benedict, mounted upon mules, wearing traveling masks and carrying umbrellas. Behind them came a coach accompanied by four or five men on horseback and two muelteers on foot. In the coach was a Blscalne lady go ing to Join her usband' at Seville. The monks were not In her company, but only happened to be traveling the same road. "Hah!" cried Don Quixote, "either I am much deceived or those black fig ures are enchanters carrying off some Trincess whom they have stolen." So, planting himself in the middle of the highway, the valiant knight called out: "Diabolical and monstrous race! Kither immediately release the high born Princess whom you are carrying iw.iv or prepare for instant death:" "Sir." said one of the monks, mazed at the sight of the Don, "we are monks of the Order of St. Benedict, traveling on our own business, and en tirely Ignorant of any Princess." "No fair speeches with me." shout ed the Don; and. clapping spurs to Rozlnante. he ran at the foremost monk with such fury that had not the N holy man slipped quickly to the ground be must have been killed. The second monk, seeing the fate of his brother, gave spur to his mule and fled across the plain. Seeing the fallen monk on the ground, Sancho ran up and began to disrobe him. To two lackeys who came up and asked what he was about, Panza replied that the monk's clothes were lawful spoils of war, having been won in combat by his master, the cel ebrated knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha. The lackeys being deficient in a sense of humor and never having heard of Asnadls of Gaul, much less of Don Quixote, threw Sancho to the ground and. besides not leaving him a hair In his beard; soundly belabored and kicked him. Meantime Don Quixote rode up to the coach and announcing himself as a "knight errant and adventurer, cap tive to the peerless and beauteous Dulclnea del Toboso," requested the lady to return to Toboso and, present ing herself before Dulclnea, recount what he had done to obtain her liberty. The lady was too astonished at the gaunt apparition and the fantastic speech to reply, but one of her BIs caine squires rode up and told the Don to begone, or he would have his life. "If thou wert a gentleman," retorted the knight. "I would chastise thee." "What, I no gentleman?" cried the Biscalner. "if thou wilt throw away thy lance and draw thy sword, thou shalt see how soon the cat will get Into the water; Biscalner by land, gentle man by sea! Gentleman for the devil. And thou llest!" Snatching a cushion from- the coach to serve as a buckler, the Biscalner made for the Don who, rising in his stirrups and grasping his sword in both hands, let drive such a blow at the squire's head as must have cleft it had not the cushion interposed. As it was, the fiery Blscainer thought a mountain had fallen upon him and slipped to the ground while the terri fied lady called out that if he would only go away she would perform any thing he commanded. Don Quixote at these words rode off. with Sancho at his heels, and in a neighboring wood the, squire spread for his master and himself a bountiful repast, for which he had found the materials in the wallet of the fallen monk, and which he had hung onto in spite of his drubbing. They put up at an Inn that night which the Don de clared was a castle and where many scurvy tricks were played upon them, not the least of which was tossing; Sancho In a blanket because he had no money to pay the reckoning. "If. I live long I shall see much," said Sancho when he rejoined his master, "but as it is now reaping time, sup pose we return to our village and not go any more rambling out of the fry ing pan into the fire." "Patience and shuffle the cards, Sancho," replied the knight; and just at that moment they saw in the road two flocks of sheep coming from op posite directions. "Hah!" cried the Don. "Hearest thou the neighing of steeds and the blare of trumpets?" And before San cho could stop him he charged Irjto te midst of the two flocks, which had now come together, and with his lance caused slaughter among the mutton. The infuriated shepherds assaulted him with stones, knocking out some of his teeth and knocking in some of his ribs, and then, fearing they had killed him, made off with their flocks as speedily as they might. "Lord save us!" cried Sancho as he assisted the fallen master to his feet. "Your Worship has left on this lower side only two grinders and on the upper not a one." It was ever thus with all who pro fessed t"he strict order of chivalry." re plied Don Qulzote as he painfully mounted his isteed. As they passed along at a snail's pace, for even the Don's ardor was somewhat dampened by his misadventure, darkness fell and they saw approaching over the plain a great number of lights. As the lights came nearer they saw that they were borne by about twenty persons clothed in white, walking in front of a litter covered with black. The litter was fol lowed by six persons clothed in black and mounted upon mules. Those robed in white were muttering to themselves In a low and plaintive tone. Forget ting his wounds in the prospect of an adventure, Don Quixote rode in front of the procession and commanded the people to halt and give an account of themselves. "We are In haste." answered one of the procession, "and the inn is a great way off. We have not time to parley." One of the others began to revile the knight and bade him stand out of the way. Whereupon Don Quixote, couching his lance, rode Into them, and the white-robed figures. being un armed and peaceable withal, went run ning over the plain with their lighted torches, like so many maskers on a carnival night. The mourners, being encumbered with their trappings of woe, could not come to the assistance of their fellows, and so the Don had an easy victory, the more easy that they all thought him some devil sent to carry off the dead body they were escorting. One of the mourners had fallen and lay pinned un der his mule. Him Don Qutxote cour teously raised up and was then in formed of the fact that he had at tacked a funeral procession. "Who killed the man?" ashed the Don. "He died of a pestilential fever," re plied the mourner. "Well, since that Is so, I am saved the trouble of avenging his death," said the Don thankfully. "'When Heaven kills a man all that Is ex pected of us Is patience and a slight shrug." As the mourner was going away. Sancho called out to him to tell his companions that they had been van quished by Don Quixote de la Mancha, the Knight of the Sorrowful Figure. "Why didst thou call me Knight of the Sorrowful Figure?" asked the Don. "Because." replied Sancho. "I think thou art the most sorrowful figure I ever saw. Perhaps It Is owing to the loss of the teeth." "Not at all. not at all," replied Don Quixote, "it was an inspiration. Other knights-errant were called, one the Knight of the Unicom, another of the Rose, another of Damsels, and so on. Henceforth I will be known aa the THE SU"DAT COPYRIGHT. 1907. BY ' Iook Yowrz. TkiMP Sanwo. .. Knight of the Sorrowful Figure. I will have the most sorrowful figure that ever was, painted on my shield." "No need to do that," returned Sancho; "your worship has only to Bhow your own figure." The Don wanted to examine the lit ter, for which the mourners had not yet returned, but Sancho said: "No! Hunger presses; the ass is laden and the mountain is near; to the grave with the dead, the living to bread. Let us march." And march they did. Reaching a retired valley they dis mounted and Sancho spread a feast for himself and his master. The eccle Biasts who were escorting the dead body had dropped their wallets in their flight wallets well stocked with food and the provident Sancho had gathered them up and loaded them upon Dapple. But having neither water nor wine to quench their thirst, when they had eaten they. went on a little further through the wood In search of a stream. They had -not pro ceeded far when they heard a great rushing of water, but at the same time another fearful sound, a din of Irons and rattling chains and mighty strokes delivered in regular time and measure. Don Quixote ran to his steed and mounting In haste was for at once charging upon this new peril, but poor Rozlnante refused to move, even at the prick of the knight's spur. "Verily, the steed is enchanted," cried the Don; but the fact was that Sancho, fearing to have his master rush off toward the horrible sounds, had secretly tied together the animal's hind legs so that she could not budge a step. Don Quixote, however, refused to dismount, and sat on horseback un til day began to break, when, Sancho having secretly unhobbled Rozlnante, the knight, followed at a safe distance by his squire, rode through the chest nut wood in the direction of the fear ful clamor. U-pon doubling a point the true and un doubted cause of the noise which had held them all night in such suspense appeared plain. It was simply a little fulling mill, the six hammers of which were busily at work. Sancho burst into a laugh, which so angered his master that he discharged a blow at him with his lance that, had it lighted upon Sancho's head instead of upon his shoulders, Don Quixote would have at once discharged himself of his squire's wages unless it had been to his heirs. This stopped Sancho's Ill-timed mirth, and his master forgiving him, the two took to the road again. They had not Journeyed far when the Don discovered a man advancing on horseback. He had upon his head something that glittered as If it had been gold. "When one door is shut, another is opened," said Don Quixote. "If we were disappointed of an adven ture at the fulling mills, here is another open to us. A man approaches wearing Mambrino's helmet. Retire and leave me to deal with him." "I will retire fast enough," replied San cho. "but I pray this may not be an other fulling mill adventure." "Base knave!" cried the knight. "I com mand thee never to even think again of fulling mills. If you do. I will mill your soul for you." And putting spurs to Ro zlnante, he went charging upon a peace ful barber who was proceeding on his business from one village to another and had placed his brass basin on his head to save his cap from the rain which was eginning to fall. "Defend thyself, caitiff!" cried Don Quixote as he neared the barber. The man, affrighted at the strange apparition, slid from his ass to the ground and went scampering over the plain, nimbler than a roebuck, leaving his basin behind "Doubtless the pagan for whom this helmet was originally forged had a pro digious head," said the Don to Sancho, who now came up. "What are you laugh ing at, sirrah?" "I was laughing." replied Sancho, "to think how much like a barber's basin Mambrino's helmet looks." "So it may. to you," retorted the knight, "but to me, who knows what it really is. its looks are of no importance." Don Quixote placed the basin on his head and held it there by passing a strap over it and under his chin, so that his appearance was more remarkable even than before. The errant knight then raised bis eyes and saw approaching in the same road about a dozen men strung out like beads, held by the neck in a great iron chain and all handcuffed. With them were two men on horseback armed OKEG0IA', PORTLAND. IRVING KING. ALL RIGHT. REJERVEb with firelocks. , and two men on foot armed with pikes and swords. As soon as Sancho saw them he exclaimed: "Here come some criminals condemned to the galleys." "Then these men are carried olT against their will," said the Don. "Here is where my office comes in." "I would have speech with these men," said Don Quixote, courteously riding up to the guards. "You may ask a few questions," was the reply, "but their com mitments are all regualr and we have little time." "What are you sent to the galleys for?" asked the knight of a reckless-looking young fellow. "For being in love," re plied the youth with a grin. "Ah," sighed the Don. 'if men were sent to the galleys for being in love. I long since had been there myself." "Yes," said the youth, "I fell in love with a basket of linen and made off with it." Don Quixote now turned to question one Gines de Passamonte. the most no torious rogue in Aragon, but the guard cried out: "Enough of this fooling. Adjust your basin upon your head and go your way In peace, senor. Do not go feeling for three legs on a cat." "You are a cat and a rat and a rascal to boot!" cried Don Quixote, and at tacked the guard so suddenly that he threw him to the ground much wound ed by a thru3t of his lance. The other guards, recovering from their surprise, rushed toward the knight, and doubt less it would have gone hard with him had not the galley slaves taken ad-, vantage of the tumult to break the chain by which they were linked to gether. Sancho assisted Gines de Pas samonte to free himself, and that des perate character seized the firelock of the overthrown guard. The others armed themselves with stones, and the guards were soon put to flight. The convicts gathered around Don Quixote to know his pleasure, for they thought he was a bandit and had come to their rescue in "order that they might Join his band. But when the Don in stately words commanded them to go to the city of Toboso and present themselves before the peerless Dulclnea, they laughed at him. Then the knight, wax ing wrathful and threatening, they knocked him from his horse with stones, stripped him of the jacket he wore over his armor, and would have taken his trousero, too, had not the greaves hindered them. As for Mam brino's helmet, they tore it from his head and broke it to pieces. Then they tooK Sancho's cloak and made off. "Sancho," said Don Quixote solemnly as he sat up and rubbed his bruises, "I have always heard it said that to do good to the vulgar is to throw water Into the sea" "As I am a Turk." replied Sancho, "what your worship must think of now Is to get out of this scrape. The guards will give the alarm and we shall be pursued and arrested by the Holy Brotherhood, who care no more for knights-errant than for so many fleas. Let us get into these mountains while we -yet can." The Don, protesting that It was in order to do penance by fasting and by scourging himself for love of his lady and not for fear of the law that he went, allowed Sancho to lead him into a wild and remote part of the Sierra Morena, where, the next day. stripping himself of most of his clothing, he be gan to live his hermit's life according to the manner he had read of in books of chivalry wherein knights are wont upon occasion to retire from the world to meditate upon their love affairs. Sancho was commanded to repair to Toboso, and. carrying his adoration to Dulclnea. bring him back word from the peerless princess. In a ravine Sancho found a dead mule and a port manteau, and in the portmanteau 100 golden crowns. They were the prop erty of a young man whose love had been abducted by a powerful noble and who had retired In a half-mad condi tion to live amid these same wilds. But Sancho. not knowing this. and. in truth, not caring much, as he considered the find as a reward of chivalry, appropri ated the money and went on his mis sion. He had not proceeded far when he met Master Nicholas, the barber, and the curate who had left their village to go in search of their demented friend. Learning from Sancho how matters stood, they resolved on a strat agem to get Don Quixote home again. Disguising themselves and pretending 'JUNE" 23. 1907. or X that they were emissaries from a Prin cess Micomicon, who begged the valor of the illustrious Don Quixote to come to her assistance, they lured the knight from his penance and as far home as the inn at which he and iancho had once lodged and suffered. Then, being unable to keep up the joke longer, they bound the Don hand and foot while he slept, and placing him in a hastily constructed cage on a cart they carrled him within a day's Journey of his village. Then, as he promised not to give them the slip, they let him out. But scarcely had Don Quixote been released from his cage than he saw a procession come forth on the plain to pray for rain. He Immediately charged it for a hostile army, and got so well beaten by the peasants for his pains that his friends finally took him to his house and put him to bed, where he lay for a couple of weeks. The curate and the barber enlisted in their cause, which was the keeping of Don Quixote at home, one Sampson Car rasco. a young bachelor of arts, just re turned from his university. Seeing that the Don was determined to take to the road again, the bachelor advised that they should not try to hinder him by force, as he had a stratagem which he thought would work mightily well. As soon as Don Quixote was able to lift lance again he departed, taking Sancho along with him. In search of new adven tures. The 100 golden crowns which San cho had brought back Induced his wife to consent to his second departure, but with some misgivings as to the greatness of being an island governor which he prated about. "The best sauce in the world.' said she. "is hunger: and as the poor are never without that they eat with relish; but If you should chance to get an island remember your family." "If I do not get an island I will die in the attempt," said Sancho, valiantly. "Nay," replied his wife, "let the hen live, though it be with the pip." "Sancho I was born and Sancho I shall die,"' returned the squire, "but for all that, if an Island comes In my way I shall take it; for. as the saying is, 'When they offer you a heifer be ready with a rope." and 'When Fortune knocks, make haste to let her in.' " Don Quixote and Sancho had -rjot pro ceeded far on their Journey when they encountered a mounted man in armor. He had over his armor a coat which shone with many little pieces of glass and a plume waved over his closed hel met. The stranger announced himself as the Knight of the Mirrors and called upon Don Quixote to acknowledge the peerless Casildea de Vandalia as the most beautiful and most virtuous prin cess in the world. He also vaunted him self that he had overthrown in combat that redoubtable knight, Don Quixote de la Mancha. The Don gave the stranger the lis upon both propositions and demanded to fight It out immediately. This the other agreed to on condition that the vanquished should remain at the discretion of his conqueror. As the two knights rode against each other, he of the mirrors seemed greatly perplexed what to do with his lance, to the handling of which he was evidently unaccustomed. His horse, also, was a sorry beast, more dejected if possible than Rozinante. The result was that Don Quixote sent his adversary tumbling over his horse's crupper. As the Knight of the Mirrors lay like one dead, the Don dismounted and un laced his adversary's helmet to see how badly he might be wounded- Vast was the Don's astonishment to see in the face of the fallen knight the very effigy and semblance of the bachelor, Sampson Carrasco. "See what wicked enchanters have done!" cried Don Quixote. "They have changed this knight Into the semblance of my young friend." By this time the Knight of the Mirrors began to recover his senses, upon which the Don. placing the point of his sword to the throat of his fallen foe, said in a stern voice: "You are a dead man. Sir ICnight, if you do not at once acknowledge that the peerless Princess Dulcinea del Toboso ex cels In beauty your Casildea de Vandalia. You are enchanted into the semblance of a friend of mine, but that shall not avail you." The bachelor, for he indeed it was. agreed to all that the Don demanded, even promising to present himself imme diately before Dulclnea. to be disposed as she might direct. The young man had thought It would be an easy muter to overthro the Don. and had proposed to make him promise to go home and re frain from knight errantry for two years, by the end of which time he thought a cure might have been effected. Sancho praised his master's prowess and remarked to the stranger knight, whose strong resemblance to the bache lor Carrasco he could not entirely con vince himself was due to enchantment: "Other folks' burdens break the ass' back. He who gives up his own wits to recover those of another searcheth after that which, when found, may chance to hit him in the teeth. Those who go for wool are like to come back shorn." After the adventure with the Knight of the Mirrors, Don Quixote and his squire Journey for many days, meeting now and then with slight adventures, until one morning, emerging from a forest, they saw a stately train of ladies and gentle men with their attendants indulging in the sport of hawking. The chief of the party proved to be a certain Duke and his Duchess, and as both had heard of the former doing of Don Quixote, an account which had been published Just after his return from his second sally, they greeted the knight with great pleasure and resolved to divert themselves at his expense. Taking blm to the castle they brought to mind all the customs of chivalry which they could re member from their reading, and repro duced as near as they might a state of affairs with distressed damsels, jousts and love-making such a castle and such a company as is described in the old ro mances that had turned the good knight's head. Sancho conceived this to be a good time to ask for his island, and the Duke, after arranging matters with his steward, sent the squire off in state to a town of his. where for a while he was to be allowed to play Governor. Sancho objected at first that his island was not surrounded by water, but the duke assured him that many islands were not. Don Quixote dispatched his squire with a first-class set of maxims such as "Take virtue for thy rule of life, for blood is inherited, but virtue is common proper ty and may be acquired by all. Every one Is the son of his own work. Deem it more meritorious to be a humble man than a lofty sinner. Let the tears of the poor find more compassion, but not more Jus tice from thee than the applications of the wealthy. If the cause of thine enemy come before thee, forget thy injuries and think only of the merits of the case. Re vile not with words him thou has to cor rect with deeds. If perchance the scales of Justice be not evenly balanced let the cause be Imputed to pity and not to gold. Let not private affection blind thee in an other man's cause. Be not under the do minion of thine own will; it is the vice of the Ignorant, who vainly presume -on their own understanding." The Duke and his Duchess were aston ished at these words of wisdom and mar veled that a man should be so sane on other subjects and so mad on that of chivalry. Sancho's "island" of Baratarla proved to be anything but what his fancy had painted it. He was a great glutton, and when he sat down to a full-laden board his court physician stood by, and when a dish was served of aa especially tempting nature touched it with a wand and It was whisked away. "Your lordship's food must be carefully watched," said the phy sician, "that you may eat nothing to harm you." "Body o' me!" cried Sancho when they' had thus reduced his fare to bread and water. "Give me something to eat or take back my island, for a government that will not give a man food is not worth a hill of beans." For two days and nights they kept Sancho busy hearing causes, upon which he delivered many shrewd decisions, half starved all the time. Then a letter from the Duke warned HEARING Our Feathered Brethren Are HENRY OLDYS, of the United States Biological Survey, spoke at the art gallery on "Melody in Bird Songs," and gave some truly remarkable and ex quisite examples of it. He Imitated "our brothers in music," as he called them, not only in their music, but in some of the tricks of attitude assumed, a very funny bit, ludicrously true, be-' ing an example of a chat, a yellow breast, which, if heard in the thicket, would be supposed to be the voice of several birds. But Mr. Oldys saw him and gave his motions in talking, scolding, laughing, and singing. The bird evidently had a good time in his solitary enjoyment, and the audience had a hearty laugh, as they did also at the animated description of some of the dan cing birds of the Southern continent, one of which, a great bird. If bowed to by a person, will bow in return, just as it does in its dances. It Is now 14 years since Mr. Oldys first took up this study, and most of his ex amples had been taken from individ uals found in a radius of about two miles. He hoped that In the interest of science as well as pleasure some of those present would make similar studies in their own neighborhoods. He divided birds roughly Into two groups the non musical and the musical, the crow and the crow-blackbird being taken as ex amples of the first. Then there is a sub group that is a mixture of the two. of which the song sparrow, who has some notes like a broken string on a piano, which he Is fond of repeating, is an ex ample. It was thought that the individ uality of various members of the same species is not well understood. Some times birds will sing off the key just as human beings or violins will sometimes do. But measured by our musical stan dard their music was declared to be mu sical, and found to be so as Mr. Oldys gave it. He whistled the birds songs in the high, clear notes of a bird, not merely in imitation of the melody, but placed the phrases where they belong In alt where few whistlers could put them. And this was done with pure, soft tone, no forcing and consequent loss of effect. One had but to shut one's eyes to hear the real bird. The notes of the white-throated sparrow, heard here sometimes, when It visits for a while among the English sparrows; the field sparrow whose mel ody, however, he had to put a trifle dif ferent, as the bird sings not quite In accordance with our scale. the song sparrow, and the grasshopper sparrow were grouped. The particular song spar him that a hostile army was about to at tack the "island," and he expected the Governor to be prepared. That night there was a great tumult In the town, and attendants rushing into Sancho's apartment told him to arm and lead forth his troops, as the enemy had already won the gates. Scared out of his wits. Sancho Allowed them to bind him between two old targets and then, attempting to move, fell down where the others in their mad cap hilarity trampled over him until they were satisfied with the Joke. Early the next morning Sancho, put ting on the clothes which he wore as a squire and mounting Dapple, rode forth Into the market place and took leave of his subjects. "St. Peter is well at Rome," said he, "and nothing becomes a man so well as the employment he was born for. Every sheep with its like. Stretch not your feet beyond your sheet. Tell the Duke I go away as poor as I came, which is more than most Governors can say." As Sancho neared- the Duke's castle whom should he see but his master out taking a morning ride on Rozlnante. After greetings the two told each other what liad befallen them since their separation. They had wandered far into a wood, when they saw approach ing along the road a knight armed cap-a-pie. The stranger announced himself as the Knight of the White Moon looking for fight with Don Quixote. "How. caitiff and recreant knight?" cried the Don. and at it they went. But the Knight of the White Moon, being well mounted and handling his lance witn great skill, managed to unhorse the Don without hurting him except in his pride. Placing his sword at the throat of his fallen adversary, the stranger knight demanded that the Don yield himself according to the rules of chivalry and promise to perform what ever might be demanded of him AVIth a rueful face Don Quixote yielded himself. The condition imposed upon him was that he return to his home and give up knight-errantry for two years. Then the Knight of the White Moon rode off and when he took off his trap pings in a neighboring inn disclosed the features of the bachelor. Sampson Car rasco. who, mortified at his first failure to overthrow the Don. had been practic ing with the handling of steeds and the use of the lance until he felt able to set out for a second trial. Sorrowfully Don Quixote went on his homeward way. Sancho was not In a hurry to meet his wife again and desired to tarry by the way and sleep much of the time. Don Quixote upbraided his squire for his somnolent tendency, but Sancho replied: "Blessings light upon the man who first Invented sleep. It covers a man all over, body and mind, like a cloak. It Is meat to the hungry, drink to the thirsty, heat to the cold. It Is the coin which can purchase all things; the balance that equals the shepherd with the King, the fool with the wise man." "I never heard thee talk so eloquently before," said the Don, "which proves the truth of the saying 'not with whom thou are bred but with whom thou are fed.' " On arriving at his home, Don Quixote fell sick of fever and, worn out by his fastings and adventures, sank rapidly to ward the grave. But before he died his brain cleared and he said to his friends: "Give me joy. good gentlemen, that I am no longer Don Quixote de la Mancha, but -Alonzo Quixano, an utter enemy of Amadis of Gaul and all his generation. Let my fate be a warning to all who be fuddle their brains with those lying ro mances of chivalry." Sancho returned to his farm work and talked to his last hour of the days when he was a governor; while Sampson Car rasco wrote the good knight's epitaph. BIRD MUSIC Sometimes Off Key, Like Violins. row taken was thought to be a pupil of Mozart. Mr. Oldys supplied missing phrases, put the melody In a lower key, and it was found to be one that would have passed anywhere for some of that master's writing. The grasshopper spar row Is to be commiserated, for he has a soul for music, but no ability to express it. Mr. Oldys showed how the little fel low takes the attitude of a grand opera tenor and then sings an explosive "pick-beck-zlzz-z !" Wrens, kinglets (ruby crown), titmice, chickadees and vireos were imitated and Interesting incidents told about each, and then meadow larks were taken up. One refrain sung by these birds Is Just that of "Flnlcula." These birds sing duets and trios, an incident being relaied and illus trated where, on the advent of a new comer, a bird changed from the key of B flat. In which it had been singing, to that of E flat. In which the newcomer had sung while at a distance. The three birds ang. twice around, a combination of re lated phrases In a sweet trio. Mr. Oldys' representation of the songs of wood thrush and wood pewee was beautiful. The first took a melody of four phrases, returning to the keynote at the close in a graceful arpeggio, and two wood pewees had a duet in semi-canon form. Here musical Intelligence was shown in the fact that when one singer stopped at the close of a verse, the first repeated the opening phrase five times, waiting for the answer after esch, and then re newed her song in the original time. Brooklyn, N. Y.. Eagle. Restful Employment. Chicago Kewa. The dignity of honest toil Is what I ever will maintain. I love the tiller of the soil. The harvester of golden grain. X much approve the artisan Who slaves from dawn till even mirk. 'Most any honest worktngman. I like to stand and see him work. The chauffeur with his monkey wrench. The workmen who the asphalt lay. The laborer who digs the trench. The painter with his colors gay. The carpenter w-tao rips ft plank For hours In blacksmith ihons I've stood -The scissors grinder ax his crank To see them hustle does me good. Some like to watch a bftsebftll game. And' some prefer to see ft show. Sucii sights aa those to me are tame; I would not waste my leisure so. I know that many men wxmld call It very small amusement, yet I think the flnest thing of all la watching other fellows sweat.