The So-called Human Race

And not a moment too soon. A small whirring sound grew louder and louder, and Aunt Jo went whizzing by on her high power autobroomstick, leaving in her wake a horrible reek of gasoline and brimstone. But not the Aunt Jo of the evening before. Her green eyes flashed behind the goggles, and her face was something dreadful to behold. On her shoulder perched Pluto, every hair erect, and spitting fire.

The Boy gasped, and hoped he had seen the last of the terrible hag, when the whirring noise announced that she was coming back. She stopped her broomstick directly opposite the hiding-place and began cutting small circles in the air, the while peering sharply about.

As the Boy plunged into the thicket, he fell. As he lay there, something cold pressed against his hand.

It was Mowgli’s nose. The dog’s eyes questioned his master, who had cried out in his sleep.

“Oh, Mowgli!” he exclaimed, taking the spaniel by his shaggy ears, “did you dream all that wonderful dream? Or did you stop at the woodchuck hole? What a shame, Mowgli, if there shouldn’t really be a Knight of the Dusty Thoroughfare, and a Princess Aralia and a Witch who makes wonderful doughnuts!”

A LINE-O’-TYPE OR TWO

“Nous ne trouvons guère de gens de bon sens que ceux qui sont de notre avis.”

    – La Rochefoucauld.

“THE FRIEND OF THE PEOPLE.”

Old Amicus Pop
Is the friend of the Wop,
The friend of the Chink and the Harp,
The friend of all nations
And folk of all stations,
The friend of the shark and the carp.
He sits in his chair
With his feet on the table,
And lists to the prayer
Of Minerva and Mabel,
Veritas, Pro Bono, Taxpayer, and the rest,
Who wail on his shoulder and weep on his breast.

Old Amicus Pop
Is the solace and prop
Of all who are weary of life.
He straightens the tangles
And jangles and wrangles
That breed in this city of strife.
Whatever your “beef,”
You may pour him an earful;
Unbottle your grief
Be it ever so tearful.
Oh, weep all you wish – he is there with the mop.
Bring all of your troubles to Amicus Pop.

When we think of the countless thousands who peruse this Cro’-nest of Criticism, a feeling of responsibility weighs heavily upon us, and almost spoils our day. Frezzample, one writes from St. Paul: “We have twenty confirmed readers of the Line in this ‘house.’” The quotation marks disturb us. Can it be a sanitarium?

Most of the trouble in this world is caused by people who do not know when they are well off. The Germans did not know when they were well off. Your cook, who left last week, as little apprehended her good fortune. Nor will the Filipinos be happy till they get it.

Those who stand in awe of persons with logical minds will be reassured by Henry Adams’ pertinent reflection that the mind resorts to reason for want of training. His definition of philosophy is also reassuring: “Unintelligible answers to insoluble problems.”

Among those who have guessed at the meaning of “the freedom of the seas” was Cowper:

“Without one friend, above all foes,
Britannia gives the world repose.”

Maxwell Bodenheim has published a book of poems, and the critics allow that Max Boden’s brays are bonnie.

IF YOU MUST KISS, KISS THE DOCTOR

[From “How to Avoid Influenza.”]

Avoid kissing, as this habit readily transmits influenza. If physician is available, it is best to consult him.

QUICK, WATSON, THE PLUMBER!

[From the Cedar Rapids Gazette.]

Mrs. T. M. Dripps gave a dinner Friday in honor of Mrs. D. L. Leek of South Dakota.

“Kind Captain, I’ve important information.” Mr. Honkavaarra runs an automobile livery in Palmer, Mich.

“The first child, Lord Blandford, was born in 1907; the second was born in 1898.” – Chicago American.

This so annoyed the Duke, that a reconciliation was never possible.

When your friend points with pride to a picture that, in your judgment, leaves something to be desired, or when he exhibits the latest addition to his family, you may be perplexed to voice an opinion that will satisfy both him and your conscience. An artist friend of ours is never at a loss. If it is a picture, he exclaims, “Extraordinary!” If it is an infant, he remarks, “There is a baby!”

He might add, with the English wit, “one more easily conceived than described.”

The advantages of a classical education are so obvious that the present-day battle in its behalf seems a waste of energy. Frezzample, without a classical education how could you appreciate the fact that Mr. Odessey is now running a Noah’s Ark candy kitchen in St. Peter, Wis.?

One may believe that the “gift of healing” is nothing more than the application of imaginary balm to non-existent disease, but if one says so he gets into a jolly row with people who consider an open mind synonymous with credulity. Our own state of mind was accurately described by Charles A. Dana: “I don’t believe in ghosts,” said he, “but I’ve been afraid of them all my life.”

The congregation will rise and sing:

Bill Bryan’s heart is a-mouldering in the grave,
But his lungs go marching on.

The astronomer Hamilton “made an expedition to Dublin to substitute a semi-colon for a colon”; but, reports J. E. R., “my wife’s brother’s brother-in-law’s doctor charged him $600 for removing only part of a colon.”

Few readers realize how much time is expended in making certain that commas are properly distributed. Thomas Campbell walked six miles to a printer’s to have a comma in one of his poems changed to a semi-colon.

Following a bout with the gloves, a Seattle clubman is reported “in a state of comma.” A doctor writes us that infection by the colon bacillus can be excluded, but we should say that what the patient needs is not a doctor but a proof reader.

“She played Liszt’s Rhapsodie No. 2 with remarkable speed,” relates the Indianapolis News. In disposing of Liszt’s Rhapsodies it is all right to step on the accelerator, as the sooner they are finished the better.

GIVE US THIS DAY OUR DAILY CLIMATE, AND FORGIVE US OUR DROPS IN TEMPERATURE!

[From the Pasadena Star-News.]