The So-called Human Race Part 23

Take Edgar Lee Masters': He is a lawyer and a poet; Or perhaps it is best to call him A lawyer-poet, Or a poet who was never much at law, Or t'other way around if you prefer.

Whichever way 'tis put, the fact remains He wrote a poem that now sells For fifty cents plus four beans.

Think of it!

Four dollars and fifty cents, Or, if you prefer, $4.50.

And Elenor Murray did not have a cent on her When they found her body on the banks Of the Squeehunk river.

And the poem is out of stock at half the stores.

And Villon starved and Keats, Keats-- Where am I? I don't know.

Yseult Potts.

The headline, "U. S. to Seize Wet Doctors," has led many readers to wonder whether the government will get after the nurses next.

We have always been in sympathy with President Wilson's idea of democracy. He expressed it perfectly when he was president of Princeton.

"Unless I have entire power," said he, "how can I make this a democratic college?"

The complete skeptic is skeptical about skepticism; and there is one day in the round of days, this one, when he may lay aside his gla.s.ses, faintly tinted blue, and put on instead, not the rose-colored specs of Dr. Pangloss, but a gla.s.s that blurs somewhat the outlines of men and things; and these he may wear until midnight. The only objects which this gla.s.s does not blur are children. Seen through blue, or rose, or white, children are always the same. They have not changed since Bethlehem.

A very good motto for any family is that which the Keiths of Scotland selected a-many years ago: "They say. What say they? Let them say." It might even do for the top of this Totem-Pole of Tooralay.

A frequent question since the war began is, "Why are there so many d.a.m.n fools in the faculties of American universities?" Chancellor Williams of Wooster turns light on the mystery. Eminent educators who are also d.a.m.n fools are hypermorons, who are intellectual but not truly intelligent. He says of these queer beings:

"The hypermoron may laugh in imitation of others, but he has no original humor and very little original wit. The cause for this is that original wit and humor require unusual combinations of factors; but the very nature of the hypermoron is that he does not arrange and perceive such combinations. When the hypermoron does cause laughter from some speech or action, usually he resents it. But when a normal man unconsciously does or says something laughable, he himself shares in making sport of himself. Though at times amiable, the hypermoron invariably takes himself so seriously as in a long acquaintance to become tiresome."

THE ENRAPTURED SOCIETY EDITOR.

[From the Charlotte, Ky., Chronicle.]

The lovely and elegant home of that crown prince of hospitality, the big hearted and n.o.ble souled Ab. Weaver, was a radiant scene of enchanting loveliness, for Cupid had brought one of his finest offerings to the court of Hymen, for the lovable Miss Maude, the beautiful daughter of Mr. Weaver and his refined and most excellent wife, who is a lady of rarest charms and sweetest graces, dedicated her life's ministry to Dr.

James E. Hobgood, the brilliant and gifted and talented son of that ripe scholar and renowned educator, the learned Prof. Hobgood, the very able and successful president of the Oxford Female college.

THE MISCHIEVOUS MAKE-UP MAN.

[From the Markesan, Wis., Herald.]

It is a wise man who knows when he has made a fool of himself.

A baby boy was born to Mr. and Mrs. Emil Zimmerman of Mackford yesterday.

WHY THE MAKE-UP MAN LEFT TOWN.

[From the Grinnell Review.]

Born, April 19, to Professor and Mrs. J. P. Ryan, a daughter.

This experience suggests that simple scientific experiments performed by college students would furnish a very interesting program of entertainment in any community.

COOL, INDEED!

[From the Tuttle, N. D., Star.]

At the burning of a barn in Steele recently, our superintendent displayed some nerve and pluck. Miss Sherman did not wait for the men to get there but hastened to the barn without stopping to dress, and in bare feet untied the horses before they had become unmanageable thus saving them with little trouble. There is not a man, we venture to say, in all Steele but would have stopped to put on his pants before venturing out into the crisp air, but she did not, her whole thought being of the dumb animals imperiled, and it was, indeed, a nervy and cool-headed performance.

_RHYMED DEVOTION._

[Robert Louis Stevenson to his wife.]

_When my wife is far from me The undersigned feels all at sea._

_R. L. S._

_I was as good as deaf When separate from F._

_I am far from gay When separate from A._

_I loathe the ways of men When separate from N._

_Life is a murky den When separate from N._

_My sorrow rages high When separate from Y._

_And all things seem uncanny When separate from f.a.n.n.y._

Lacking the equipment of the monk in Daudet's tale, an amateur distiller is gauging his output with an instrument used for testing the fluid in his motor car's radiator. "Yesterday," reports P. D. P., "he confided to me that he had some thirty below zero stuff."