Black Wolf: Thongs which none could break, unless Oak Leaf and Red Wing themselves should first unbind them. (To the children.) Will Oak Leaf, will Red Wing unbind the mystic thongs of clan and home? Let the children decide.

The Chevalier: Black Wolf is wise. My children are babes no longer.

They can think and speak.

Black Wolf: Let them speak....

Glory of the Morning: Yes. Let the children decide.

Black Wolf: Oak Leaf, do you want to leave Black Wolf and Glory of the Morning to go with Half Moon over the Big Sea Water?

Oak Leaf (Looking up at her mother): O _do_ I, mother?

Glory of the Morning: I cannot tell. I love you, Oak Leaf.

Oak Leaf (Withdrawing toward her father): Mother, make father Half Moon take you with us too.

Glory of the Morning: The Half Moon has told you that he no longer needs Glory of the Morning.

The Chevalier (Taking Oak Leaf's hand caressingly): Oak Leaf, you are too beautiful to wither and wrinkle here digging and grinding and stitching, though the handsomest brave of the Winnebago bought you for his squaw. Beyond the Big Sea Water you won't have to dig and grind and stitch. And sometime a noble brave of my nation will come in a blue suit with gold braid to the chateau and say: "I love Oak Leaf; will you give Oak Leaf to me?"

Oak Leaf (Gladly): And you'll give me to him, father! ... (Oak Leaf leans against her father, with a half frightened glance at Glory of the Morning.)

The Chevalier: You see, Glory of the Morning.

Glory of the Morning (With restraint): I will say good-bye to Oak Leaf.

Black Wolf: Red Wing, are you going with your sister and with Half Moon over the Big Sea Water?

Red Wing: Sister, _are_ you really going?--You are always making believe.

Oak Leaf: O, father,--tell him.

The Chevalier: She is going, Red Wing.

Red Wing: There is nothing for me beyond the Big Sea Water.

The Chevalier: Over there your father is a famous chief, and you might wear a sword and fight beside the Great King.

Red Wing: I shall not fight beside the Great King; and I shall not wear the white man's sword.

The Chevalier (Takes his arm, coaxingly): Little chief, why not? Why not, my son?

Glory of the Morning (Coldly and firmly): Because he is _my_ son.

Red Wing (Standing off; to the Chevalier with boyish pride): Because I am a Winnebago.

LOVE AFAR

From "THE VAUNT OF MAN AND OTHER POEMS," p. 75. Copyright, 1912, by B. W. Huebsch.

I dare not look, O Love, on thy dear grace, On thine immortal eyes, nor hear thy song, For O too sore I need thee and too long, Too weak as yet to meet thee face to face.

Thy light would blind--for dark my dwelling place-- Thy voice would wake old thoughts of right and wrong, And hopes which sleep, once beautiful and strong, That would unman me with a dread disgrace:

Therefore, O Love, be as the evening star, With amber light of land and sea between, A high and gentle influence from afar, Persuading from the common and the mean, Still as the moon when full tides cross the bar In the wide splendor of a night serene.

THE IMAGE OF DELIGHT

O how came I that loved stars, moon, and flame, An unimaginable wind and sea, All inner shrines and temples of the free, Legends and hopes and golden books of fame; I that upon the mountain carved my name With cliffs and clouds and eagles over me, O how came I to stoop to loving thee-- I that had never stooped before to shame?

O 'twas not Thee! Too eager of a white, Far beauty and a voice to answer mine, Myself I built an image of delight, Which all one purple day I deemed divine-- And when it vanished in the fiery night, I lost not thee, nor any shape of thine.

A DEDICATION

(For a privately printed collection of verse.)

Ye gave me life for life to crave: Desires for mighty suns, or high, or low, For moons mysterious over cliffs of snow, For the wild foam upon the midsea wave; Swift joy in freeman, swift contempt for slave; Thought which would bind and name the stars and know; Passion that chastened in mine overthrow; And speech, to justify my life, ye gave.

Life of my life, this late return of song I give to you before the close of day; Life of your life! which everlasting wrong Shall have no power to baffle or betray, O father, mother!--for ye watched so long, Ye loved so long, and I was far away.

THOMAS HERBERT DICKINSON

Thomas Herbert Dickinson was born in Virginia in 1877, and after a wide and thorough scholastic preparation was made associate professor of English in the University of Wisconsin in 1909. Mr. Dickinson is known to thousands of the citizens of Wisconsin as a friend of the drama. He believes that the drama is one of the most legitimate and natural means for the expression of the sentiments, tendencies, activities, and ideals of any people. No doubt he has done much to raise the standard of dramatic judgment and criticism among the citizens of Wisconsin. However, he would not want it said that he is trying primarily "to raise people's dramatic ideals." His mission rather has been to encourage communities to express themselves legitimately and wholesomely through their own dramatic productions. He has won much distinction both as an editor and an author of plays, but perhaps his greatest service to Wisconsin in this direction is his work in editing the little volume, "Wisconsin Plays," containing one play each by Zona Gale, Professor Leonard, and himself.

The following selection is taken from his play, "In Hospital," in the volume just mentioned. It depicts just such a scene as takes place in our hospitals every day of the year. The wife is about to undergo a serious operation. The husband is trying to keep cheerful in anticipation of the ordeal. That is the sort of scene which, Mr. Dickinson wants us to realize, can be wholesomely and pleasantly represented by the drama.

IN HOSPITAL

Copyright, 1909, by the author.

A Wife.

A Husband.

A Surgeon.

An Interne.

A Nurse.

Wife: Tell me about the children.

Husband: Oh, they are getting on--so, so.

Wife: I know they will.