of Portugal and the Shah of Persia. The plodding students and the sober men of learning, ranged about the hall, blink at the brilliant company like owls suddenly brought into the sunlight.

At a given moment the hum of conversation dies away and the assemblage rises to its feet as a little black-robed figure steps in and stands before them on the platform. There is an in

"SHE IS SLIGHT, ALMOST PATHETICALLY FRAIL, THIS QUEEN OF SCIENCE."

stant's stillness,-a hush of indrawn breath you can almost hear,--and then the audience gives expression to its enthusiasm in a sudden roar of applause. The little woman lifts up her hand appealingly. All is still again and she begins to speak.

She is slight, almost pathetically frail, this queen of science. You feel as if all her life had gone into her work. Her face is pale, and her hair is only a shadow above her serious brow.

But the deep-set eyes glow, and the quiet voice somehow holds the attention of those least concerned with the problems of advanced physics.

Rank and wealth mean nothing to this little black-robed professor. It is said that when she was requested by the president to give a special demonstration of radium and its marvels before the Shah of Persia, she amazed his Serene Highness by showing much more concern for her tiny tube of white powder than for his distinguished favor. When the royal guest, who had never felt any particular need of exercising self-control, saw the uncanny light that was able to pass through plates of iron, he gave a startled exclamation and made a sudden movement that tipped over the scientist's material. Now it was the Lady Professor's turn to be alarmed. To pacify her, the Shah held out a costly ring from his royal finger, but this extraordinary woman. with the pale face paid not the slightest attention; she could not be bribed to forget the peril of her precious radium. It is to be doubted if the Eastern potentate had ever been treated with such scant ceremony.

In 1911, Madame Curie's name was proposed for election to the Academy of Sciences. While it was admitted that her rivals for the vacancy were below her in merit, she failed of being elected by two votes. There was a general protest, since it was felt that service of the first order had gone unrecognized merely because the candidate happened to be a woman. It was stated, however, that Madame Curie was not rejected for this reason, but because it was thought wise to give that vacancy to Professor Branly, who had given Marconi valuable aid in his invention of wireless telegraphy, and who, since he was then an old man, would probably not have another chance for the honor. As Madame Curie, on the other hand, was only forty-three, she could well wait for another vacancy.

Since the outbreak of the present war the world has heard nothing new of the work of the Heroine of Radium. We do not doubt, however, that like all the women of France and all her men of science, she is giving her strength and knowledge to the utmost in the service of her adopted country. But we know, also, that just as surely she is seeing the pure light of truth shining through the blackness, and that she is "following the gleam." When the clouds of war shall have cleared away, we may see that her labors now, as in the past, have not only been of service to her country, but also to humanity. For Truth knows no boundaries of nation or race, and he or she who serves Truth serves all

men.

THE SECRET OF THE LAKE

AFTER distributing food among the starving hill Moros, Lieutenant' Lewis, through his interpreter, asked Dato (chief) Kali Pandapatan if he knew anything about the mysterious rice that had recently been discovered floating on Lake Lanao.

"It is true it has been found there," replied Kali. "The Good Spirit must send it, as rice has never been grown in that district and no other source is known."

"Have you a good runner, some one you can trust, to investigate this matter for the Government ?"

"The boy Piang is fleeter than the wind, surer than the sun," proudly replied the chief. "Piang!" he called.

From out the crowd stepped a slender faun of a youth. Kali spoke a few curt words to him. The boy nodded assent, turned, and disappeared into the jungle.

"Wait!" protested the lieutenant; "he has been given no directions."

A smile broke over Kali Pandapatan's face. "Piang needs no directions, no advice. No jungle is too thick for him to penetrate, no water so deep as to hide its secrets from him. Piang will bring news of the rice. I have spoken."

THE Jungle was terrible. Everywhere Piang came across victims of the drought. Little monkeys, huddled together, cried like babies; big birds, perched on the sun-scorched trees, were motionless. He stumbled over something soft. Always alert, his bolo (knife) was ready in an instant, but there was no need for it. He was looking into the dying eyes of a little musk-deer. Pity and misgiving filled his heart, and he wondered if he would be able to reach the Big Pass before he starved. Surely, up there it would be different; they always had rain, and if he could. only hold out- A snuff-like dust constantly rose from the decayed vegetation; it pained his nostrils, and he muffled his face in his head-cloth as he penetrated deeper into the jungle. He must reach a clearing before night; it would mean almost certain death to sleep in the jungle's poisonous atmosphere. There was a spot farther up, and he worked his way toward it, determined to reach it for his first night. The liana-vine that he cut for water was dry. He listened for the

trickle of a brook. The jungle is usually full of little streams, but no sound rewarded his vigilance. Stumbling along, he began to think his journey would end there, when he was startled by loud chattering. A monkey settlement! They were too lively to be famishing for water. Spurred on by hope, he redoubled his efforts, and was rewarded by the sight of a cocoanut grove in a clearing.

There was a general protest from the inhabitants as he made his appearance, but he paid no attention to the monkey insults hurled at him, and gratefully picked up the cocoanuts with which they bombarded him. Shaking each one, he tossed it from him. They were all dry. The monkeys were too clever to waste any nuts that had water in them. Piang tied his feet loosely together with his head-cloth, and, using it as a brace, hopped up one of the trees as easily as a monkey itself could have done. One cocoanut after another he drained, and when his thirst was slaked, he amused himself by returning the bombardment. He was surrounded by monkey snipers. Piang laughingly rubbed his head where one of their shots had struck home, and, with careful aim, showered the trees; gradually the monkeys began to disperse. He had won; the fun was over. He watched them scold and fuss as they retreated into the jungle, regretting that he had not kept them with him a while for company.

The big sun was dipping into the trees now, and he descended to gather material for his bed. High up in the cocoanut-trees Piang built his couch. He selected two trees that were close together, and, cutting strips of rattan, bound stalks of bamboo together, making a platform which he lashed to the trees, far out of reach of night prowlers. He dipped into his scanty provisions, and then, scrambling to his nest, covered himself with palm branches, which afford warmth as well as protection from the unhealthy dew, and sank into an untroubled slumber.

Piang started guiltily. He must have overslept. The sun was high, but for some reason the heat had not awakened him. Sitting up, he rubbed his eyes, sniffed the air, and uttered a shout of joy. A gentle rain was trickling through the foliage; the spell was broken; the jungle would live again! After hastily gathering a few nuts he climbed down the tree and

prepared for his journey, thankful that the drought was to be ended by the gentle "liquid sunshine," as it is called, instead of a violent typhoon.

It was very difficult traveling. The sun was not visible during the afternoon, and Piang lost his direction. Blundering here and there, he often came back to the same place. It was no use; he could not find the trail without the assistance of sun or stars. Sometimes it was days before either could penetrate the dense mist that accompanies the tropical rains. Discouraged, he threw himself on the ground.

A gentle, monotonous murmur gradually attracted his attention. Springing up, he parted the foliage, and shouted. A broad river was sweeping by; he had reached the Big Pass.

For more than two days Piang fought steadily through the entanglement of cogan-grass and vicious vines, cutting and hewing his way, afraid to cross the river and follow the Ganassi trail. Finally, one rosy dawn he came upon the lake as it sparkled and shimmered in the early light. The boy held his breath, delighted with the beauty and astonished at the view. Far in the distance mountains rose in a blue and purple haze. The lake was nestled in the heart of them, fed by many clear brooks and springs.

All that day from his retreat, built high among the trees, Piang watched the lake people ply their way to and fro across the water. Somewhere on that lake was the secret of the floating rice, and the boy was determined to discover the truth. He hid before dawn at the water's edge near a spot that he had noticed was much frequented. As usual, a swarm of natives visited it about noon. Piang watched them dip gourds and cocoanut-shell cups into the water. They strained it through cloths, repeating and repeating the action. He was sure it was the coveted rice they were gathering, and impatiently waited for them. to go; no sooner had they departed, however, than others arrived to take up the task. There was nothing to do but again wait for dawn, and Piang wriggled himself back to his grove and mounted his platform home.

At last it was light-at last he could see into the clear lake! Climbing out on the rocks as far as he could, he let himself into the cool water. How he rejoiced at the feel of it, and how easily he slipped along toward the spot on the shore where he had watched the natives the day before.

He looked for signs of rice. Water-weeds tricked him; bubbles vanished as he reached to grasp them. Round and round he swam, and finally his hands closed over something small and slippery. Breathlessly he fingered it, and opening

his hand as he trod water, he beheld the mushy rice grains.

Taking a long survey, he assured himself that there was no one in sight. Yesterday the Moros had not come before noon; and if he worked quickly, he might discover the secret to-day. Taking a long breath, Piang dived straight down, and, swimming along the bottom, examined the rocks carefully; but he came back to the surface none the wiser for his plunge. A puzzled look puckered his face. Tilting his head to one side, he considered. That was surely rice; it did n't grow here, so it must come from under the water. With a determined look, he grasped his nose with one hand, and, holding the other above his head, sank out of sight. This time he swam nearer the surface, and he saw that there was more rice floating by than he had imagined. It was not coming from the bottom either; it was drifting from the center of the lake!

Excitedly he headed in that direction, swimming under water whenever he lost the trail of the rice. It was not strange that it only came to the top in that one spot. There was a strong current that bore it upward, whirling it in an eddy before it sank to the bottom. Farther, farther he went-always toward the center of the lake; and always the rice grew thicker. Eagerly he plunged forward, swimming face down, eyes opened, watching the rice.

He stopped. What was that dark object resting on the bottom? He did not know how exhausted he was until he paused for breath; then, knowing that his next dive would take him far down, he rolled over on his back and floated quietly. Burning with curiosity, he could hardly wait to see what was there. Slowly he swam downward. Something warned him to be more careful, and afterward he was grateful for his caution, for had he plunged recklessly to the bottom here, in all probability it would have been his last dive.

He was conscious of a large body moving near him, and dodged just in time to avoid a collision, striking out for the top. Lying flat on the water, he peered into the depth and discovered several dark things swimming about. Frightened at first, he remembered that sharks and crocodiles do not live in mountain lakes. Bravely he descended, but this time he swam with his bolo (knife) in his hand. Down-down-and again he saw the queer, square-looking things flopping about. They were huge tortoises and were clustered around a darker object at the very bottom of the lake. Once more Piang came to the top. He was not afraid now; tortoises do not fight unless attacked, and the boy could easily outswim any of