concentrated our efforts in this direction. We examined the radium salts we obtained with the aim of discovering their powers and we loaned samples of the salts to several scientists, in particular to Henri Becquerel. . .

The main result of our investigations, and of those of other scientists during these years, was to make known the nature of the rays emitted by radium. We were at this time entirely absorbed in the new field that opened before us, thanks to the discovery so little expected. And we were very happy in spite of the difficult conditions under which we worked. We passed our days at the laboratory, often eating a simple student's lunch there. A great tranquillity reigned in our poor, shabby hangar; occasionally, while observing an operation, we would walk up and down talking of our work, present and future. When we were cold, a cup of hot tea, drunk beside the stove, cheered us. We lived in a preoccupation as complete as that of a dream.

Sometimes we returned in the evening after dinner for another survey of our domain. Our precious products, for which we had no shelter, were arranged on tables and boards; from all sides we could see their slightly luminous silhouettes, and these gleamings, which seemed suspended in the darkness, stirred us with ever new emotion and enchantment.

Actually, the employees of the School owed Pierre Curie no service. But nevertheless the laboratory helper whom he had had to aid him when he was laboratory chief had always continued to help him

as much as he could in the time at his disposal. This good man, whose name was Petit, felt a real affection and solicitude for us, and many things were made easier because of his good will and the interest he took in our success.

We saw very few persons in the laboratory; however, from time to time some physicist or chemist came to see our experiments, or to ask Pierre Curie for advice or information; for his authority in several branches of physics was very well recognized. And then there were discussions before the blackboard discussions which are pleasantly remembered to-day, because they stimulated an interest in science and an ardor for work without interrupting any course of reflection, and without troubling that atmosphere of peace and contemplation which is the true atmosphere of the laboratory. . . .

In the spring of 1900 there came an unexpected offer, that of the chair of Physics in the University of Geneva. The Dean of that University made the invitation in the most cordial manner, and insisted that the University was ready to make an exceptional effort to secure a scientist of such high repute. The advantages of this position were that the salary was larger than the average one, that it carried the promise of the development of a Physics laboratory adequate to our needs, and that an official position for me would be provided in this laboratory. Such a proposition merited a most careful consideration, so we made a visit to the University of Geneva, where our reception was the most encouraging possible.

This was a grave decision for us to make. Geneva presented material advantages, and the opportunity of a life comparable in its tranquillity with that in the country. Pierre Curie was, therefore, tempted to accept, and it was only our immediate interest in our researches in radium that made him finally decide not to. He feared the interruption of our investigations which such a change must involve. MARIE CURIE

HAIL THE HERO WORKERS

HAIL the Hero workers

Of the mighty Past!

They whose labor builded
All the things that last.
Thoughts of wisest meaning;
Deeds of noblest right;
Patient toil in weakness;
Battles in the night.

Hail, then, noble workers,
Builders of the Past!

All whose lives have blest us

With the gains that last.

Hail ye, Hero workers,
Who to-day do hear
Duty's myriad voices
Sounding high and clear;
Ye who quick responding,
Haste you to your task,
Be it grand or simple,
Ye forget to ask!

We have taught you bridle and saddle;

We have given you room to run;

Your steeds are bred

Of a hope high-fed

That we of our fathers won.

To us there are still the stirrups

Of days that we have known,

But soon you will ride,

Side by our side,

Bidding us hold our own.

The reins of the world you will grapple

Out of our curbing hands.

You will change our goal,
And Time, as a foal,

Will guide with new commands.
For so we did in our season,

And so your sons shall do,
Wherefore we pray,

As you break away,

But this: ride Vision-true.

For not in the New lies peril :

We fear no youngest dream

That ever was

Of Utopias

Wrapped in supernal gleam.

But know, there is goalless running,
A spurring but for speed,

With an intense

Low love of sense

Blind to the world's soul-need.

Mount then a reproachless saddle;

We have given you room to run.
Your steeds are bred

Of a hope high-fed;

So see, ere the race be done,

That you yield the reins to your children

More near to the final goal.

And if we cry

As you pass us by,

Heed not

but achieve the Whole.

CALE YOUNG RICE

(Reprinted by special permission of the author from At the World's

Heart, published by Doubleday, Page and Company)