I would not seem to slam our valued planet,--
Space, being infinite, may hold a worse;
Nor would I intimate that if I ran it
Its vapors might disperse.
Within our solar system, or without it,
May be a world less rationally run;
There may be such a geoid, but I doubt it--
I can't conceive of one.
If from the time our sphere began revolving
Until the present writing there had been
A glimmer of a promise of resolving
The muddle we are in:
If we could answer "Whither are we drifting?"
Or hope to wallow out of the morass--
I might continue boosting and uplifting;
But as it is, I pass.
So on your way, old globe, wherever aiming,
Go blundering down the endless slopes of space:
As far away the prospect of reclaiming
The so-called human race.
Gyrate, old Top, and let who will be clever;
The mess we're in is much too deep to solve.
Me for a quiet life while you, as ever,
Continue to revolve.
* * *
"Our editorials," announces the Tampa Tribune, "are written by members
of the staff, and do not necessarily reflect the policy of the paper."
Similarly, the contents of this column are written by its conductor and
the straphangers, and have nothing whatever to do with its policy.
* * *
"What, indeed?" as Romeo replied to Juliet's query. And yet Ralph Dilley
and Irene Pickle were married in Decatur last week.
* * *
He was heard to observe, coming from the theater into the thick of the
wind and snow: "God help the rich; the poor can sleep with their windows
shut."
* * *
We have received a copy of the first issue of The Fabulist, printed in
Hingham Centre, Mass., and although we haven't had time to read it, we
like one of its ideas. "Contributions," it announces, "must be paid for
in advance at space rates."
* * *
The viewpoint of Dr. Jacques Duval (interestingly set forth by Mr.
Arliss) is that knowledge is more important than the life of individual
members of the so-called human race. But even Duval is a sentimentalist.
He believes that knowledge is important.
* * *
Among reasonable requests must be included that of the Hotel Fleming in
Petersburg, Ind.: "Gentlemen, please walk light at night. The guests are
paying 75 cents to sleep and do not want to be disturbed."
* * *
We have recorded the opinion that the Lum Tum Lumber Co. of Walla Walla,
Wash., would make a good college yell; but the Wishkah Boom Co. of
Wishkah, Wash., would do even better.
* * *
Some one was commiserating Impresario Dippel on his picturesque
assortment of griefs. "Yes," he said, "an impresario is a man who has
trouble. If he hasn't any he makes it."
* * *
What is the use of expositions of other men's philosophic systems unless
the exposition is made lucid and interesting? Philosophers are much like
certain musical critics: they write for one another, in a jargon which
only themselves can understand.
* * *
O shade of Claude Debussy, for whom the bells of hell or heaven go
tingalingaling (for wherever you are it is certain there are many
bells--great bells, little bells, bells in high air, and bells beneath
the sea), how we should rejoice that the beautiful things which you
dreamed are as a book that is sealed to most of those who put them upon
programmes; for these do not merely play them badly, they do not play
them at all. Thus they cannot be spoiled for us, nor can our ear be
dulled; and when the few play them that understand, they are as fresh
and beautiful as on the day when first you set them down.
* * *
"The increase in the use of tobacco by women," declares the Methodist
Board, "is appalling." Is it not? But so many things are appalling that
it would be a relief to everybody if a board, or commission, or other
volunteer organization were to act as a shock-absorber. Whenever an
appalling situation arose, this group could be appalled for the rest of
us. And we, knowing that the board would be properly appalled, should
not have to worry.
* * *
Ad of a Des Moines baggage transfer company: "Don't lie awake fearing
you'll miss your train--we'll attend to that." You bet they do.
* * *
The president of the Printing Press and Feeders' (sic) union estimates
that a family in New York requires $2,362 a year to get by. Which sets
us musing on the days of our youth in Manchester, N. H., when we were
envied by the others of the newspaper staff because we got $18 a week.
We lived high, dressed expensively (for Manchester), and always had
money for Wine and Song. How did we manage it? Blessed if we can
remember.
* * *
The soi-disant human race appears to its best advantage, perhaps its
only advantage, in work. The race is not ornamental, nor is it
over-bright, having only enough wit to scrape along with. Work is the
best thing it does, and when it seeks to avoid this, its reason for
existence disappears.
* * *
"Where," asks G. N., "can I find the remainder of that beautiful
Highland ballad beginning--
'I canna drook th' stourie tow,
Nor ither soak my hoggie:
Hae cluttered up the muckle doon,
An' wow but I was voggie.'"
* * *
Women regard hair as pianists regard technic: one can't have too much of
it.
* * *
The demand for regulation of the sale of wood alcohol reminds Uncle
Henry of Horace Greeley's remark when he was asked to subscribe to a
missionary fund "to save his fellow-man from going to hell." Said Hod,
"Not enough of them go there now."
* * *
A few lines on the literary page relate that Edith Alice Maitland, who
recently died in London, was the original of "Alice In Wonderland."
Lewis Carroll wrote the book for her, and perhaps read chapters to her
as he went along. Happy author, happy reader! If the ordering of our
labors were entirely within our control we should write exclusively for
children. They are more intelligent than adults, have a quicker
apprehension, and are without prejudices. In addressing children, one
may write quite frankly and sincerely. In addressing grown-ups the only
safe medium of expression is irony.
* * *
Gleaned by R. J. S. from a Topeka church calendar: "Preaching at
8 p.m., subject 'A Voice from Hell.' Miss Holman will sing."
* * *
Here is a happy little suggestion for traveling men, offered by
S. B. T.: "When entering the dining room of a hotel, why not look
searchingly about and rub hands together briskly?"
* * *
What could be more frank than the framed motto in the Hotel Fortney, at
Viroqua, Wis.--"There Is No Place Like Home."?
* * *
As to why hotelkeepers charge farmers less than they charge traveling
men, one of our readers discovered the reason in 1899: The gadder takes
a bunch of toothpicks after each meal and pouches them; the farmer takes
only one, and when he is finished with it he puts it back.
* * *
If Plato were writing to-day he would have no occasion to revise his
notion of democracy--"a charming form of government, full of variety and
disorder, and dispensing equality to equals and unequals alike."
* * *
The older we grow the more impressed we are
by the amount of bias in the world. Thank
heaven, the only prejudices we have are religious,
racial, and social prejudices. In other respects
we are open to reason.
* * *