The So-called Human Race. Taylor Bert Leston

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ with fine etherially beautiful melody and graceful embellishments, it represents Mozart at his best, expressing in a form as clear and finely finished as a delicate ivory carving that mood of restful, sunny, impersonal optimism which is the essence of most of his musical creations. It is like some finely wrought Greek idyl, the apotheosis of the pastoral, perfect in detail, without apparent effort, gently, tenderly emotional, without a trace of passionate intensity or restless agitation, innocent and depending, as a mere babe. It is the mood of a bright, cloudless day on the upland pastures, where happy shepherds watch their peaceful flocks, untroubled by the storm and stress of our modern life, a mood so foreign to the hearts and environment of most present day human beings, that it is rarely understood by player or hearer, and still more rarely enjoyed. It seems flat and insipid as tepid water to the fevered lips of the young passion-driven, ambition-goaded soul in its first stormy period of struggle and achievement; but later, it is welcomed as the answer to that inarticulate, but ever increasingly frequent, sign for peace and tranquil beauty.

SOMEWHERE IN THE MICHIGAN WOODS

      Sir: Last night I disturbed the family catawollapus – née Irish – with, “Are you asleep, Maggie?” “Yis, sor.” “Too bad, Maggie; the northern lights are out, and you ought to see them.” “I’m sorry, sor, but I’m sure I filled them all this morning.” What I intended to say was that I have taken the liberty of christening a perfectly good he-pointer pup Jet Wimp. Hope it is not lese majesté against the revered president of the Immortals. Salvilinus Fontanalis.

      A Sheboygan merchant announces a display of “what Dame Nature has decreed women shall wear this fall and winter.”

      In considering additions to the Academy of Immortals shall Anna Quaintance be forgot? She lives in Springfield.

      A box-office man has won the politeness prize. Topsy-turvy world, did you say?

      We lamp by the rural correspondence that Mrs. Alfred Snow of Chili, Wis., is on her way to Bismarck, N. D. It is suggested that she detour to Hot Springs and warm up a bit.

BLAKE COMES BACK

      Little Ford, who made thee?

      Dost thou know who made thee,

      Gave thee gas and bade thee speed

      By the stream and o’er the mead;

      Gave thee cushions hard and tight,

      Bumpy tires small and white;

      Gave thee such a raucous voice,

      Making all the deaf rejoice?

      Little Ford, who made thee?

      Dost thou know who made thee?

      Little Ford, I’ll tell thee,

      Little Ford, I’ll tell thee.

      He is callèd by thy name,

      Henry Ford, the very same.

      He is meek and he is mild,

      Is pacific as a child.

      He a child and thou a Ford,

      You are callèd the same word.

      Little Ford, God bless thee!

      Little Ford, God bless thee!

      B. L.

EVERYBODY CAME IN A FORD[From the Milwaukee Sentinel.]

      Miss Evelyn Shallow, daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Peter Shallow, and Raymond Bridger, both of Little River, were married recently at Oconto.

      Considering the pictorial advertisements, A. B. Walkley finds that that triumphant figure of the active, bustling world, the business man, divides his day somewhat as follows: He begins with his toilet, which seems to center in or near his chin, which is prominent, square, firm, and smooth; even the rich, velvety lather cannot disguise it. The business man collects safety razors; he collects collars, too. He seems to be in the habit of calling in his friends to see how perfectly his shirt fits at the neck. Once dressed, he goes to his office and is to be found at an enormous desk bristling with patent devices, pleasantly gossiping with another business man. You next find him in evening dress at the dinner table, beaming at the waiter who has brought him his favorite sauce. Lastly you have a glimpse of him in pajamas, discoursing with several other business men in pajamas, all sitting cross-legged and smoking enormous cigars. This is the end of a perfect business day.

      Mr. Kipling has obtained an injunction and damages because a medicine company used a stanza of his “If” to boost its pills. While we do not think much of the verses, we are glad the public is reminded that the little things which a poet dashes off are as much private property as a bottle of pills or a washing machine.

      Animals in a new Noah’s Ark are made correctly to the scale designed by a London artist who studies the beasts in the Zoo. Would you buy such an ark for a child? Neither would we.

      Social nuances are indicated by a farmer not far from Chicago in his use of table coverings, as follows: For the family, oil cloth; for the school teacher, turkey red; for the piano tuner, white damask.

SHE SAT APART

      Sir: We were talking across the aisle. Presently the girl who sat alone leaned over and said: “You and the lady take this seat. I’m not together.” A. H. H. A.

THE G. P. P

      Sir: What is the gadder’s pet peeve? Mine is to be aroused by the hotel maid who jiggles the doorknob at 8 a.m., when the little indicator shows the room is still locked from the inside. It happened to me to-day at the Blackhawk in Davenport. W. S.

BEG YOUR PARDON

      W. S. writes, after a long session with his boss, that the recent announcement he was disturbed at 8 o’clock by the rattling of his hotel door was a typographical error committed in this office (sic), the hour as stated by him really having been 6.30 a.m.

      The manager of the Hotel Pomeroy, Barbados, W. I., warns: “No cigarettes or cocktails served to married ladies without husband’s consent.”

      It is years since we read “John Halifax, Gentleman,” but we must dust off the volume. The Japanese translation has a row of asterisks and the editor’s explanation: “At this point he asked her to marry him.”

      Gadders have many grievances, and one of them is the small-town grapefruit. One traveler offers the stopper of a silver flask for an authentic instance of a grapefruit served without half of the tough interior thrown in for good measure.

      If Jedge Landis has time to attend to another job, a great many people would like to see him take hold of the Senate and establish in it the confidence of the public. It would be a tougher job than baseball reorganization, but it is thought he could swing it.

YES?

      You may fancy it is easy,

      When the world is fighting drunk,

      To compile a colyum wheezy

      With a lot of airy junk —

      To maintain a mental quiet

      And a philosophic ca’m,

      And to give, amid the riot,

      Not a dam.

      You may think it is no trick to

      Can the topic militaire,

      And determinedly stick to

      Jape and jingle light as air —

      To be pertly paragraphic

      And to jollity inclined,

      In an evenly seraphic

      State of mind.

      When our anger justified is,

      And the nation’s on the brink;

      When Herr Dernburg – durn his hide! – is

      To be chased СКАЧАТЬ