"Bugs, eh?" said Aunt Emma, jumping at a conclusion "I thought the Japanese were so clean."

"I must say I'm always glad to get away," said Mr. Gilbert. "And then the hotels and the food are so dirty," said Mrs. Benn. "We've got something good for you here," she said smiling. "You know that German Bundkuchen I was telling you about? Well, when it's made right you could die eating it."

"We've been looking forward to it," said Mrs. Gilbert, and Mr. Gilbert nodded.

"You know how you get tired of travelling after a while," said Mr. Gilbert. "You're been in a good many places yourself, haven't you, Mrs. Brenner?"

"We've been in England and France," said Aunt Emma. "The food is terrible in England, but we thought everything was wonderful. We enjoyed everything. We thought it was wonderful.” Aunt Emma and Mrs. Benn had eaten abroad several summers. The waitress came to the door.

"Dinner iss raddy, Mrs. Benn."

"All right," said Mrs. Benn in a sympathetic tone. "Now don't be formal; and if there's anything you want just ask for it.” "We'll be all right, Mrs. Benn," said Mrs. Gilbert.

They went into the dining room and sat down before silver that was strange even to Aunt Emma and Mrs. Benn.

"Did you hear Heifetz last night?" asked Mr. Gilbert.

"We certainly did," said Aunt Emma. "Don't you think he played wonderfully? It was really wonderful."

She smiled as if she were fooling some one.

The waitress was passing the chicken; Mrs. Benn watched her as if she were a juggler in an act she was managing.

"You talk about starving musicians," said Mrs. Gilbert. "There were seven hundred people that tried to get tickets for last night-"

"Nein, nicht a dieser Seite," said Mrs. Benn suddenly. "Ja; yeah; that's better. She's new. She doesn't know everything yet." "It must be hard to train them," said Mr. Gilbert.

"It is hard at first," said Aunt Emma. "You could kill yourself." "You didn't take a thing," said Mrs. Benn to Mr. Gilbert when the chicken was offered to him. "There's nothing on that; that's

bone. No, don't take dark meat. Here, com'ere; let me help you." She took his plate by force and firmly placed three portions of chicken on it.

"That's better," she said.

"It must be wonderful to travel the way you and Mr. Gilbert do," said Aunt Emma.

"It's more business than pleasure after twenty years," said Mrs. Gilbert. "It gets so that we think we're residents if we stay overnight."

"It's burnt," said Mrs. Benn. "I told her to be careful. If I told her once I told her a hundred times. Do you notice it?"

"It tastes fine to me," said Mr. Gilbert. "I really think you imagine it."

"Well, it's burnt, and I'm going to tell her," said Mrs. Benn as if she were alone, and hurried out to the kitchen.

The waitress gasped as the swinging pantry door just missed her tray of asparagus.

"I go, Mrs. Benn, I go," came from the kitchen in a moment. "Oh, what's she going now?" said Aunt Emma, and got up. "She gets so excited. Will you excuse me a minute, while I see what I can do?"

She went into the kitchen. The conversation could be read in the dining-room.

"Now, Mrs. Benn didn't mean anything and the lunch is fine, and you're going to stay. Now what's the use of all this?"

“Oh, you didn't finish the Bundkuchen or anything. Now is that right, to go, after I promised them?"

"Mrs. Benn, you neffer leaff me alone. How you tink a girl can werk? I get my tings to-morrow. It's too late. Goot bye, Mrs. Benn; I'm sorry, but it's too much excitement."

The back door opened and closed. It was opened again and a loud voice said, "We all get excited at times and we don't mean it," but the door closed again in a moment.

Mrs. Benn and Aunt Emma appeared at the pantry door.

"Well, she's gone," said Aunt Emma. "I don't know what to do."

"She didn't even finish the Bundkuchen," said Mrs. Benn.

"Honestly, if some one told you before they'd do a thing like that you wouldn't believe it."

"Well, it just shows you must never be nice to them," said Aunt Emma. “They never appreciate what you do for them. I tell you they never appreciate it."

"Now listen; don't worry," said Mrs. Gilbert. "We've had plenty, and what we had was delicious. Now sit down and calm. yourself. She's not the last cook on earth."

"Let's go into the parlor," said Mr. Gilbert. "You can give us a copy of the recipe, and we'll have some one make us the Bundkuchen.”

"We can't let you go like that," said Mrs. Benn.

"Well, you have the recipe, haven't you?" asked Aunt Emma. "We can make the Bundkuchen ourselves. It won't take long, and you said you could stay. You'll see what grand cooks we are," she said, smiling.

"You'll excuse us, won't you?" said Mrs. Benn. "It's really awfully good."

Mrs. Benn and Aunt Emma went into the kitchen again and took out a card index that contained directions for the grandest German dishes known.

"Now wait a minute," said Mrs. Benn.

"Got it?" asked Aunt Emma.

Mrs. Benn fingered through some cards under, "Cake", labelled, "Quick Made Coffee Cake", "Apple Strudel (Elsie's)", and came to a closely written one with "Bundkuchen" on it.

"Here it is," she said. "Dissolve yeast cake in warm milk. Three and half cups flour. Two tablespoons sugar'-say, we could never make this, Emma. It's so long since I made it I forgot how hard it is; and it takes a long time."

"Well, what do you think?" asked Aunt Emma.

"Now wait a minute," said Mrs. Benn.

She took the second card of the recipe from the box. As she did so she caught sight of the next card, labelled "Imitation Bund".

"Listen, Emma, it doesn't take long for the imitation Bundkuchen."

"I never thought of it," said Aunt Emma, and frowned. "I'm a fine one, I am."

They took out a yellow porcelain bowl, a deep tin form, an egg-beater, a flour sifter, cups, spoons, milk, flour, sugar, and eggs. Their eyes gleamed as they worked. They consulted the instructions for imitation Bundkuchen, mixed one-half pound butter, two cups sugar, yolks of four eggs, and other ingredients, and worked themselves into a frenzy over the pale yellow dough. "This is a cinch," said Mrs. Benn.

"You wonder what the girls kick about," said Aunt Emma. "Butter form and sprinkle with powdered sugar," said Mrs. Benn when the dough was properly kneaded. "Slow fire."

They tended the stove and melted some brown sugar to a syrup for an icing to make the ground nuts stick. The final requirement of "Bake slowly 1 hour" was nearly completed when Mrs. Gilbert opened the pantry door.

"Listen, we're awfully sorry, but we really have to go now. Thanks for all your trouble. I hope Mrs. Benn isn't worried about the meal, because it was perfectly all right."

"But you were going to stay," said Aunt Emma. "The cake's ready now."

"I'm afraid we can't," said Mrs. Gilbert. "Thanks just the same."

"We really can't stay any longer," said Mr. Gilbert.

"Just a minute," said Mrs. Benn, who was scattering ground nuts on the sticky brown sugar that covered the warm cake.

Aunt Emma and Mrs. Benn escorted the Gilberts to the door, where they said good-bye.

"Well, they're gone," said Aunt Emma.

"Listen; you couldn't tell the difference," said Mrs. Benn. "It's the same as the real Bundkuchen. Just taste it. I could gain a million pounds."

"It's as sweet as butter," said Aunt Emma when she had tried

some.

"Mary'd never use enough eggs, you know," said Mrs. Benr. "Yeah; it's the eggs. Well, Emma, you couldn't tell the difference.”

ROBERT JAY CONE.

Portfolio

Rails

THIS beat of trucks, this roar

this riveted corridor

between two coupled cars,

and caught from the windowed stars
Resurrection!

past

the click of a switch!

made

the choice towards defeat!

henceforth

I live for the beat

of now! and now! and now!

JOHN DAVENPORT.

Two Schools of Russian Theatre

NOT long ago, in a New Haven drawing-room, when I men

tioned the Russian Art Theatre, a New York actor said: "Everybody talks about this Russian Theatre; I do not see anything in it; it is merely a fad." It occurred to me then, that it would not be amiss to present two ideas of this theatre, not in order to defend one's hurt patriotic sensibilities, but to indicate the significance of the Russian Theatre.

The Theatre closely allied to literature, reflects contemporary literary schools and movements, hence, the doctrines of the Russian Theatres are the literary doctrines of Realism and Symbolism, the former, based on observation, the latter on imagination.

I recall two almost successive representations in the "Theatre des Champs Elissee" in Paris, one by the "Russian Art Theatre",