_Inveniat, quod quisque velit; non omnibus unum est, Quod placet; hic
spinas colligit, ille rosas._
--_Petronius._
_THE PASSING OF SUMMER._
_Summer is gone with its roses,
Summer is gone with its wine;
Likewise a lot of dam choses
Not so ideal and benign._
_King Sol is visiting Virgo,
On his Zodiacal way.
'Morrow's the twenty-third! Ergo,
Summer will vanish to-day._
* * *
Summer in town is a synonym for dullness. The theaters offer nothing of
importance; only trivialities are to be found on "the trestles." Musical
directors appeal only to the ears--chiefly the long ears mentioned by
Mozart. Bookstores offer "best sellers," "the latest fiction," and
"books worth reading" on the same counter; and the magazines become even
less consequential. Art in all its manifestations matches our garments
for thinness and lightness.
During the canicular period intellectual activity is at a stand, and we
should be grateful for the accident which tilted earth's axis at its
present angle; for when the leaves begin to fly before the "breath of
Autumn's being" we plunge into the new season with a cleared mentality
and a great appetite for things both new and old.
* * *
A man asks the Legal Friend of the People, "Will you kindly publish
whether or not it is illegal for second cousins to marry in the state of
Illinois?" and the Friend replies, "No." Aw, go on and publish it.
There's no harm in telling him.
* * *