“What bait do you use,” said a Saint to the Devil,
“When you fish where the souls of men abound?”
“Well, for special tastes,” said the King of Evil,
“Gold and Fame are the best I’ve found.”
“But for common use?” asked the Saint. “Ah, then,”
Said the Demon, “I angle for Man, not men;
And a thing I hate is to change my bait,
So I fish with a woman the whole year ’round.”
_Whiz Bang Editorials_
“The Bull is Mightier Than the Bullet”
Nature moves oftener to the time of “L’Allegro” than “Il Penseroso”—the
major, not the minor chord, predominates. The carol of birds, hum of
insects, rustle of leaves, ripple of water and chirrup of cricket are
only sad to those whose natures are harsh. There is more of light than
shadow, and we feel it as we look at matchless sunrise and sunset,
glinting stars, deep green of forest, lighter color of meadow and grain
field, and the sunbeams chased by the wind across hillside and valley.
The church is not a cemetery, the minister is not a death’s head, and his
church members should not be mummies. The world was given us to cheer
our hearts; religion was never designed to make our pleasures less, and
when it does we have less of religion and more of something else. To be
a child of God is to be a happy member of his family in a present Eden
which thrills the brain, fills the heart, and makes us rejoice in the
hope of a home where sin and sorrow shall never enter.
The historian Hume found that King Edward II had paid a jester a crown
to make him laugh. That was a good investment. How much better it is to
have a fool to make one merry than experience to make one sad. Why not
have Christmas cheer fifty-two weeks in the year and let it brighten and
bless spring, summer and autumn till winter comes again?
Shakespeare says, “One may smile and smile and be a villain,” but I think
the man who does not smile is the villain “fit for treasons, stratagems
and spoils.”
A smile is the difference between a man and a brute, though a laughing
hyena is preferable to a scowling misanthrope, and a heathen who only
wears a smile to a Christian garbed in gloom.
Cheerfulness does more for health and holiness than pills and preaching.
Why not smile in a good world with a gracious God?
The man ought to be arrested who comes downtown in the morning with an
insulting scowl that curdles the milk of human kindness. One smile is
worth a dozen snarls.
Horace, the Latin poet, taught truth by laughter; in politics a smile
has controlled kings; and Swift and Heine did more by their smiles for
freedom than swords. We can’t all be poets, painters and presidents, but
we can all be end-men to Life’s minstrel show. Mark Tapley was always
cheerful, and Sydney Smith said, “I have gout, asthma and seven other
maladies, but otherwise, thank the Lord, I am very well.”
“A merry heart doeth good like a medicine.”
* * * * *
Pacific Coast physicians are conducting a campaign which has for its aims
“the conservation of public health”—specifically, the elimination of the
advertising doctors, whom they designate quacks, and the squelching of
“cranks” who oppose vivisection.
The editor of the Whiz Bang may be put down by the doctors as among the
“cranks” because he doesn’t like the idea of vivisection. I suppose I’m
one of those sentimental birds, but any goop who tries to carve up my
dog, my pony, or even Pedro, my pedigreed bull, will have a fight on his
hands.
If surgeons must have live bodies upon which to experiment, it is
suggested they utilize some of the less useful members of the medical
profession. Most doctors are good citizens, and we include some
advertising doctors, too. They have, it is true, a somewhat exaggerated
idea of importance in the general scheme of things, but their delusion is
honest. They regard the profession highly, and rightly so.
This being the case, nobody would object if a doctor showed the courage
of his convictions by allowing his fellow “cut-ups” to strap him on an
operating table and dissect his carburetor and other inside machinery.
But until doctors assume this attitude, most regular people will regard
vivisectionists as a low species of bloodthirsty coward, pandering to a
perverted taste for twisting entrails.
* * * * *
Puritans of the city of Spokane, Wash., are seeking to have a city
ordinance regulating the length of skirts. Our correspondent in that
neck of the woods says he sees no need for such an ordinance, and that
the girls are wearing skirts now that are as long as the distance from
Spokane to the Canadian border, 100 miles, and that anyway he would
rather live on the border.
However, that’s neither here nor there. The big question in Spokane, now
that the old maids and senile lawmakers have agreed that the skirts ought
to stay below the knees, is to whom should authority to enforce such an
ordinance be given?
Some seem to think the ordinance ought to be enforced by the commissioner
of public health, while others want the commissioner of public safety.
Therefore, the question seems to be whether short skirts are a menace to
somebody’s health or whether they are dangerous to public safety.
We’ll say that it depends largely on circumstances. If a girl’s short
skirts cause a crowd to gather in the street, and automobile drivers to
look around while driving, then it’s a question of safety. Otherwise, and
in certain other circumstances, it might bring about a danger to public
health.
In any case we declare it to be interfering with the liberties of the
subject. Our sympathies are with the fair sex all the time. If a girl
has a shapely ankle, why should she hide it? It is part of her stock in
trade—in fact, a show window for the male-and-female market, or marriage
market, or whatever you want to call it. Frequently it enables a girl to
obtain a good position, it is said.
You might just as well expect a girl to cover up her face if she is a
good-looker, or place blinders or goggles on her eyes if they sparkle
too much. Besides, we have the poor policemen to consider. Do we wish
to take all the joy out of their lives? These cops virtually live on
the streets. Their pleasures are few. Are we to deprive them of viewing
shapely ankles, etc.? Do let us be a little broad-minded and give the
girls liberty.
* * * * *
Roughly estimated, 14,000,000 microbes, scientists reported, gathered on
our grandmother’s skirt. Now it would require a germ a foot high to catch
on the hem of a damsel’s garment. Isn’t that some compensation?
* * * * *
If some married women would only realize the value of a chic robe de nuit
en crepe de chine, and other dainty lingerie in retaining their hubby’s
admiration, they’d never be found sleeping alone in flannelette while he
entertained a bit of fluff outside the home circle.
* * * * *