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THE MOTION PICTURE STORY MAGAZINE
tacking party than even the flush of blush from his ardent look became so
victory. For Agnes had stepped out from it, at the flight of her guards, and stood blushing and paling by turns before the Pelicans.
Captain Hunt came up, and her
fixed that old Corinthians say, in that land of constancy, that even to this day she carries the pink in her cheeks, beneath the white and gray of her cap and hair.
Try It
By MARIE EMMA LEFFERTS
As I sat last night 'mid the crowded throng At the Motion Picture Play, I wondered how any could deem it a wrong To pass an hour that way.
I gazed at the faces — a gladsome smile
Was seen wherever I turned, Sorrow and pain were forgotten a while
In the happy hour they'd earned.
A weary mother was there with her child Who had teased her "Please to go
To see the cowboys and Indians wild At the five-cent Picture Show !"
I watched her a moment with troubled eyes,
Till the band began to play; Then I heard one or two contented sighs,
As tho wafting care away.
And soon, like her child, she laughed with aelight,
And I heard her whisper, "Joe, We sure must get Daddy, tomorrow night,
To come to the Picture Show!"
Oh, such a simple thing to bring content To those who have toiled all day ;
A show for a nickel was surely meant To cheer them on their way.
Now, you who sit home discouraged and sad,
Go see if it doesn't pay; Take your neighbor along, it will make her glad
At the Moving Picture Play !
The Range Rider's Lament
By HARRY E. WEBB
Of all the old frontiersmen
That used to roam the plain, There are but very few of them
That with us yet remain; For day by day they're dropping off,
They're going, one by one ; Our clan is fast decreasing,
And our race is almost run.
And tho these homeless riders
Had never worn the blue, They faced the bitter storms of life
As brave men, tried and true ; And all would be forever gone,
To haunt us in our dream, But for the gift of Nature's hand —
The Motion Picture screen.
Our fighting days are over, boys ;
The pistol shot resounds No more along the border,
In the little western towns ; And it caused us pain, old comrades,
To live and see it die, And, only for the picture show,
Could bid our West good-by.
But our lives will e'en be brightened, Till the silent reaper gleans,
By the prairies and our comrades, When they're flashed upon the screens.