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SECOND
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The Atlanta Georgian
AND NEWS
SECOND
SECTION
VOL. IX. NO. 278.
ATLANTA, GA., SATURDAY, JUNE 24, 1911.
PRICE:
COUNT LEO TOLSTOY AS
HE REALLY WAS
(By BERNARD SHAW
Tolstoi wa* a man of genius In the
verv drat flight of that rare species.
He'hart the penetrating common sense
.tiaracterlstlc of that first flight. And
vet no English old maid of county fam-
}.,. Hying In a cathedral town on 300
nottnrts a year, could have made more
ibsunl attempts to start an Ideal so
cial system by private misconduct than
he lie put on his dress of moujlk
exartlv as Don Quixote put on a suit
of arnior. He tried to Ignore money as
n„n Quixote did. He left hla own
skilled work to build houses that could
hardly be Induced to stand, and to
make hoots that an army contractor
would have been ashamed of. He let
hi* property drift to the verge of in
solvency and ruin like the laziest Irish
sotilre because he disapproved of prop
erty as an Institution. And he was
neither honest nor respectable In his
f ' lfe connived at all sorts of Invasions.
He would not take money on a Jour
ney hut he would take a companion
who would buy railroad tickets and pay
hotel bills behind his back. He would
not own property or copyrights; but
he would make them over to his wife
and children, and live In their country
house In Yasnaya and their town house
In Moscow very comfortably, only oc
casionally easing his conscience by
making things as difficult and unpleas,
ant for them as possible. He Insisted
on celibacy as the first condition of a
worthy life, and his wife became six
teen times a mother, and found him an
uxorious husband at 70.
In the ordinary affairs of life, he
shirked every uncongenial responslbll
Ity whilst availing himself of every lux
ury he rpally cared for. And he railed
nt his wife and family for enabling him
to do it. treating his wife as ethically
Inferior because she insisted on saving
the family from ruin. Until at last she
gave him up as Impossible and man
aged for him without saying anything
harsher than her Russian formula,
"Nothing matters so long as the baby
Is not crying."- .
Probably many of Tolstoi's admirers
dismissed these facts during his llfe^
time as silly legends Invented by people
who did not understand him. But It
seems clear now that they were quite
true. Not, of course, that Tolstoi was
fact proof. He soon found-out by ex
perience that his follies were tiresome;
and he never did anything when he was
nee tired of It, tho he did not al
lays ceaso to recommend others to do
t.' But one Is none the less left ask
ing why he did not foresee the inevit
able breakdown of his attempts to be
have like a disciple In Jerusalem 1900
years ngo. I am tempted to answer
that he never foresaw anything, and
learned what he did learn thru the
simple process of' knocking his head
against It.
The reader may here loae patience
and say that Jf. I -have, nothing-uaoro
sensible to say than that Tolstoi was
a fool, I had better drop ihe subject
and leave this essay to more competent
hands. Others may say that wo Ml
learn things by knocking our head*
against them. Others, again, may say
that Tolstoi had been thru all :•ordi
nary reasoning and come out on tho
other side of it with knowledge that
we can only extend the range of pos
sibility In human conduct, ns in other,
things, by continually attempting the
Impossible. I have said-all these things
to myself. But lake a single Incident
from his life. Tolstoi writes the
Kreutxer Sonata. It Is suggested that
It should be read to the family and
their guests at Yasnaya. Tolstoi as
senting, hands the manuscript to a
gentleman to read. The gentleman bee
gins confidently; presently grows
doubtful; finally tells the countess that
he really can not go on rending in the
presence of the younger girls, g Tolstoi
on being asked whether the book Is fit
for their ears, replies calmly that they
hnd better go to bed, which they do
before reading Is resumed.
Now. to say that Tolstoi could not
have foreseen this, is to say that he had
not intelligence enough to know that If
he went out Into the rain without an
umbrella, he would get wet. Yet It Is
clear from the narrative that he did not
foresee It, and this must mean that he
was so continually preoccupied with
his Ideas and his imagination that ho
seldom gave his mind to’ more Imme
diate practical considerations—Includ
ing tho consideration of other people's
feelings and convenience—until his
neglect produced Its* Inevitable conse
quences.
No wonder the countess was often
near the end of her patience! * Indeed,
there Is one occasion recorded when
Toluol's preoccupation with his own
conscience carried him Into Inhuman
callousness. His trick of suddenly
leaving the house and declaring he
could no longer endure to live In such a
fashion has been brought Into promi
nence by his death on one of these oc
casions. Ho was a man who was
boundlessly sympathetic on paper with
Imaginary beings, but outrageously in
considerate to real people In his own
home.
When we go on to ask why people
stood all this from him, the reply must
be partly that the countess did not
stand It, but took In her own hands the
affairs he neglected, besides giving him
pieces of her mind on occasions. She
must be a woman of remarkable
strength of character to have .borne
her burden without breaking down
completely. If It be true that the ef
fects of the strain on her had their
share In the circumstances of that final
flight from Yasneya. which ended in
Tolstoi’s death, no one can blame her.
So much for that part of the social
burden which Tolstoi flatly refused to
shoulder. After all. we can not quar
rel very deeply with him for his re
fusal; If a mrtn does more than his
share of. extraordinary work for tho
world, we can hardly complain because
he refuses. to do the ordinary tasks
which society offers him. and which
are calculated for quite nnother sort of
man. But It must be said that his own
peculiar work would have been much
better done In some respects If he had
managed his estates and administered
and exploited his copyrights Instead of
leaving all this drudeerv to his wife.
It ended In.his wife knowing a great
deal more, In some respects, than he
did of men and affairs, and In his using
hlsipowers and Influence to set men on
Impracticable and mischievous enter
prises. No doubt these had their value,
but one does not know, whether Tolstoi
remained In a condition of Invincible
Ignorance (for he went on giving the
cad advice Just as If It had worked
perfectly), or whether he simply would
not take the trouble to change his
mind. He was most unfortunately In
capable of laughing at himself, tho he
had a keen sense of the Irony of wasted
philanthropy—for example, while he
was organising famine relief he ridi
culed the whole business steadily, all
thru, as ghastly futility. Yet, when a
Tolstolan colony was making Itself a
spectacle for rods and men, not by or-
gnhltlng relief for starving people, but
by reducing well fed ones to destltu-
•tlesi) hid Irony was never aroused—lie
penuaded himself, and sometimes even
persuaded the colonists, that «JI that
wife wrong was that they had not been
quite foolish enough.
Qn ihe whole, we must conclude that
It .Wag grave and Incurable defect In
Tolstoi's training that he had never
been obliged to do a real Job of real
work, and do It for his living. His spell
of soldiering was of no use to him In
that way—a man learns nothing of af
fairs from, being cooped up In a bat
tery and fed like “an artillery horse
while he fires cannon at the French and
English and la fired at by them. Ev
erything else that he did he played at
and eddri'-'got tired of it, except litera
ture. 1
In that he was a giant; In business
and practical politics he was so Inferior
that In his recent biography, Aylmer
Maude had to say. In effect: "This man
was so great—to Impressive—that he
made-me accept him as my leader In
matters In which he was, compared to
me, a baby, and I still accept that po
sition, tho I am bound to show you how
mischievously Impractical he was."
AWAKENING0F THE OLDER NATIONS
MAN, NOT WOMAN, THE
EMOTIONAL ANIMAL
(By DOROTHY D1X
Tower of Babel Is Again in Use—The Bricks of the Ancient Biblical
Structure Are Now Being Ground Up For the Building of the
New Hindia Barrage—Mesopotamia’s Reclamation.
LYSANDER JOHN SEES A HAPPY
COUPLE WED
They Will Need the Old Shoes and the Rice, lie Says, When the
Wolf Howls at fhe Door.'
By FRANCES L. GARSIDE.
Because of the visitation (visitation
l» correct aa all men wilt agree) of a
guest at the Appleton home. Lysander
John Appleton la dragged out at night-
to serve as an escort, and found hlm-
■“elf the other evening at a church wed.
ding.
He reached home alone, hla womep
folks having atopped at every comer to
discuss what the bride wore, and to
wonder why he married her, and why
she married him: and, for the firat
•Ime In weeks, Lysander John had
chance for an uninterrupted soliloquy
with hie pillow cushion ladles.
"When,'' he asked, taking off hla tight
shoes and tighter coat, "will architects
"orn to plan churches that are not too
large prayer meeting nights, and not
too small for weddings? And when
will some genius arise who will make
of every church pew an aisle seat?
Don’t Get Money’s Worth.
"I alo demand that the bride’* pro
cession last longer. Her father goes In
debt, and her mother frete and worriea
for months over a parade that doesn’t
last ten minutes. Enough time and
money were spent on that' bride to
night to entitle her to a parade down
the main avenue of the town. She
didn't get her money's worth at the
wedding, and will never get it after
ward.
"If some one would offer every en
gaged girl ISO a month Instead of a
man, how many would marry?"
The pillow cushion ladies; being
overstuffed and stupid. Just like ladles
°f extreme wealth and fashion, mada
no ) reply, and Lyaander John contln*
"They throw old shoes at a bride for
luck; I hope every guest took care to
throw a pair of mates; for the day will
come when the will need them, and,
w'hen the wolf howls at the door, hoy
she will long for the rice that was
wasted that the might hush him with a
Hoe pudding!
"I would suggest to a father that he
Present a daughter, at marriage, with
heck good at the hank tn a year
for by that time a silver dollar
henre
t*n wheeL
.’Too much frosting Is served with
everything at the wedding, considering
that they will to soon have to come to
plain bread, and that girl who was
married tonight embarked on a sea of
trduhle with her craft laden with cut
glass, and not a life-saving frying pan
or rolling pin.
How the Bridegroom Dwindle*.
“When a man marries he ha* more
things to have nightmare about, and le
reduced from a whole clothes closet to
three pegs. He thlnka he Is to be his
wife’s, cup of Joy, and finds, before the
honeymoon ends, that he Is only the fly
in It.
"There wasn't a married man at that
church tonight," he said wearily, “who
didn’t wish he had what that bride
groom was throwing away—hla freedom
—and the married women wished It,
too, but they won't say ao.
"The bridegroom looked happy going
up the aisle, but before the year la out
he will be to tlced that every funeral
procession he sees on the streets will
look like an excursion train."
Reflection* of a Bachelor.
From .The New York Press.
A woman ho* so little wile that It's
only about ten time* as much as tome
men’s.
Anybody who was clever enough to
be a really good liar would be too clever
to do it at all.
A woman can tell her husband hat
something to confess by the way he
tries to act as if she had.
A girl can admire a man for hi* bane-
ball Ignorance, but he can't admire her
for her grand opera knowledge.
There's hardly anything a man will
lie more freely about than how he got
out of an Investment with a little gain
when It woe a big loss.
The more promisee a man can make
the fewer he can keep.
The reason a woman ought to have
■bore rights Is the has all there are al
ready.
When a smart man ta trying to get
vour money away from you he can
make you thlni: lie Is trying to give you
ills till what he la after happen*.
Babylon—Possibly the greatest pres
ent project of civilization, and cer
talnly the' moat romantic, the reclama
tlon of Mesopotamia, Is now In courie
of actual realization. During the time
of my aojoum In Mesopotamia the
papers provldlpg for the construction
of these, vast Irrigation works were
signed by the Turkish, government and
Sir John Jackson, ths distinguished
British engineer, to whom the carry
Ing on to completion of the Imperial
project of Sir William Wlllcock* has
been entrusted. Sir John has left one
of his consulting engineers In charge
of Bagdad, and ths other men of hts
staff are either already here or on
the way. The magnificent conception
of Sir William Wlllcocka, to give back
to civilisation the fertile land between
the Tigris and the Euphrates, which
was*the birthplace of history, and the
home of teeming millions of people, is
no longer a dream.
So dramatic an event aa the rehabil
itation of thla once-fertlle land, now
become a desert,. Is found to be full
of startling aspects Not the leaat of
these I discovered when I came to
Babylon and saw that what the arch
aeologists are agreed upon aa the re
main* of the Tower of Babel Is now
practically a hole'in th'e ground: end
when I went out to Hlndla Barrage,
where the Wlllcockl engineers are at
work, I saw the brteka from the Tower
of Babel being ground up Into powder
to make cement for the foundations of
the new barrage. There Is a measure
of fitness In this ancient tower of de
liverance being used to help eave the
land from It* thlraty aridity. Lest
anybody accuse Sir William of being
’an Iconoclast, It may be said that the
bricks were taken from their original
site SO 1 year* ago by tho Turkish gov-’
eminent, which )ried to build a dam
that would send tha waters of the Eu
phrates once more last Babylon, or,
what meant more to It, post the mod
em town of Hlllah.
Making the Garden of (den Bloom. ;
Sir William Wlllcocka, like all arch-
aeologHta and students of the Bible,
locatee the Garden of Eden- In the
Tlgria-Euphrates delta. Sir William
fixes the elte at a point weet of HU.
the famous ^springs from which both
pntlqulty and modern times secured
vest supplies of bitumen.', These smok
ing and forbidding region* a/e said by
•ome to have given the ancients their
figure of the angels with the flaming
aworde at the gatei of the garden.
No doubt la entertained by the arch
aeologists that It was In this region
that civilization had lta birth. Here
were the great empires of antiquity.
From beneath the drifted dust and silt
ing mud of Mesopotamia the scholar;
with spades are digging up the won
derful stories of Babylon, Nlffur. Tello,
Nlnevah and Asahur, while other ’’telle’'
or mounds, euch as mark the site of
Ur of the Chaldees, the city of Abra
ham's ancestors, await the coming of
archaeological expedition*.
The ancient historians are a unit In
remarking upon the enormoas product
iveness of this vast alluvltl plain. Some
of them estimated the crop* at 200 fold.
The land teemed with people, and there
was enormoua wealth. Down to the
early centuries of the Christian era tho
populousness and productlvenesa of
Mesopotamia were famoua. The Bible
has many reference* to Mesopotamia,
and It was hither that the children of
Israel were carried Into captivity.
This land was the goal of sll tho Im
perial conqueat* that swept over Asia
mlllentums ago. It wa* here that Sar-
gon and Sennecharib and Nebuchad
nezzar and Cyru* and Darluz fought
and reigned. Alexander died at Baby
lon. Thla waa tho seat of the caliphs,
who aroe* to power after the birth of
Ialam.
The Garden Made a Desert.
As every traveler In this part of the
world has remarked, the Moslem Is not
a builder, but a waster. The statement
ta commonly made concerning the Arab,
but It le equally true of the Turk. It
seems es If the fatalism and physical
excesses of Mohammedanism cut the
nerve of initiative and endeavor. Cer
tainly the follower* of the Prophet
found tht* region a garden; but they
have made It a desert. I have traveled
over a considerable part of Mesopo
tamia. by kelek, horse, wagon, donkey,
email boat and afoot. Everywhere the
same story Is repeated. It Is all pover
ty, ruin and desolation. The Arabs live
In the same black tents that Solomon
tang about, or cite In miserable mud
hovel*. They have none of the con-
By WILLIAM T. ELLIS
venlences of civilisation. Life Is :
hand-to-mouth existence. Tho appll
ances of agriculture are primitive be
yond belief—a email triangular shovel,
a little hoe about the size and shape
cf an adxe, and a sharpened stick for a
plow.
Only a amall strip of territory, lying
along the rivers, or the few subsidiary
canals that remain. Is cultivated. Wntor
Is raised by the "cherit," a leather
bucket let down to the stream, and
hauled up by oxen, donkeys, camels or
cows. The nroceas Is cumbersome, ex
pensive and Inadequate. In a few
places oil engines and, pumps made in
Britain and America, have displaced the
cumbersome cherit. ahd It seems Inev
itable that they should become general
In the new day that Is dawning for
Mesopotamia.
Back of these cultivated arepa Ilea the
Mesopotamia desert. I have traversed
sections of It where not a plant bigger
than the camel thorn could be seen. 'It
looks quite as desolate as the sandy
Arabian desert to the west of tho Eu
phrates. Yet It Is every foot good gray
earth, friable and productive, needing
only water to-make It pour forth crops
to enrich the markets of civilization
and to deliver thA present population
from dire poverty. And the water Is
atlll available, as fully as It waa when
this region was the world'e granary.
Making the Desert a Garden,
"The Father of the Nile dams,” Sir
William Wlllcocka.- who has also had
extensive experience In Irrigation work
In India, has for year* been ciltlng
the attention of the world to tho Irri
gation possibilities of the delta of the
Euphrates and the Tigris. Theta la no
good reason why ths ancient product
iveness of this district should not be
restored. The water Is atlll available,
and the soli I* aa good aa ever It was.
The only reason for Its ancient pro
ductlvenesa—which was so great that
Herodotus was afraid to describe IT In
full lest his veracity be questioned—
was the system of canals maintained
by the peoples of old. - •
It I* to bo remembered that the dehse
populations which Mled this delta In a
former time wero not savages or bar
barians; they represented alike the be
ginnings and the high water mark of
ancient civilisation. Greece and Rome
were the heirs of this Eastern culture.
Here It was that many of the funda
mental Inventions of civilisation hnd
their origin. It waa he/e that wheat
and barley were flrat domesticated.
Some of the sciences took their rise
In this part of the world. A code of
laws as old, or older, than the Mosaic,
Is now known to have prevailed In this
Babylonian civilisation.
For ths present It Is enough to re
call that a complete and wonderful
system of canals covered all the land
known as lower Mesopotamia. Noth
ing like It Is known In modern times;
engineers have freely conceded high
praise to this achievement. Not until
Sir William Wlllcocks took up the
subject, from high humanitarian mo
tives, from the re-establlshment of the
Babylonian canals ever seriously con
sidered. His preliminary observations
led him to broach tho question, and
live years ago he undertook, on be
half of the Turkish government, whose
Interest he had enlisted, the actual
mapping opt and beginning of a canal
system. This he has dons for a nom
inal salary, which has straightway gone
back Into the-project. In some cases
ths lines of the old canals, which to
this day are the outstanding feature
of Mesopotamia scenery, are followed.
In others, newer methods, made possi
ble by modem engineering skill, are
employed.
A Livelihood For New Million*.
The Wlllcocks operations, which the
engineering firm of Sir John Jackson
take at the 1st of April, provide for
«wo great works to be completed In
less than three yeara. One of these Is
the Hlndla Barrage, which will cause
once more to flow “the rivers of Baby
Ion," now practically dry, and the Hah-
banla Escape, farther up the Euphrates,
at Ramadi. When theao have been
ed. with their Incidental canals
_ e Hlndla Barrage may be ready
In a year and a half), 1,000,040 acres of
land that! a at present arid will be
available for cultivation. The only real
obatacle feared by those engaged In the
work Is the lack of stablemlndedness of
tha Turkish government, and Its de
pleted treasury. This latter point le
covered. It la understood In these parte,
by the terms of the contract with Sir
John Jackson, who practically finances
the undertaking, recouping himself
from the Income off the new lands, re
ceiving what Is equivalent to seven per
cent on the Investment
At present the area affected by the
Irrigation project contains about a mil
lion and a half of population. These are
mostly poor Arabs, who subsist on a
pittance, ao that thousand* of them are
glad to get work on the.new canals and
barrages at twelve-cent* a day. The
women and children make even leas
than this, while some of the foremen
and picked workmen receive ae much
aa 25 cento a day. All, however, are
learning, to a degree, the habits of
steady Industry which will stand them
In atead when they come to take up the
land that la being redeemed by their
present labor*. Sir William Wlllcock*
Is authority fop the statement that
there should be a livelihood for 12,000,-
000 people In the reclaimed area.
Where these extra ten and a half mil
lions of population are to come from
gives concern to some students of the
scheme. Inasmuch aa the Young Turk*
refuse to admit any settlers who.will
not become Turkish subjects. Other
wise the surplus peoples of India and
Egypt, already trained to work on Irri
gated land, would quickly find their
way here. It'Is not at all unlikely that
within tho next three years the chau
vinistic Young Turk* will have had a
chastening that will remove this diffi
culty. In any case there are the Indus
trious Kurds of tho mountains, who
would flock down In numbers, while the
Moslem Persians have no scruples
against exchanging their present sov
ereign for the callpfy of all the faithful.
Then there is the; not unreasonable
prospect that the roving Bedouin will
settle down to agriculture, when con
ditions become more stable in the land.
Is This Germany’* Chanes?
At present the delta Is a land of law
lessness. Some of the tribes along the
lower reaches of the two rlyera are lit
tle better than aheer savages. Every
body carries a gun or a stout cudgel,
with a ball of pitch on the end. The
lack of safety for the farmer la ono
reason for the abandonment of the old
Irrigation works. The new government,
however, has vigorously undertaken the
disarmament of the people and the es
tablishment of law and order. If It
succeeds In this a greater obstacle to
tho prosperity of Mesopotamia than
any that confront* the engineers will
have been overcome.
Some persona there are who say that
Germany should be permitted to fulflll
her ambitions In this region. Every
body knows that a primary considera
tion In the building of the Bagdad rail
way Is to give Germany access to the
wheat and cotton fields of Mesopo
tamia. Here lie* the potential granary
which Germany so much needs. Here,
too, may be grown the cotton for which
her spindles are hungry. In all her
projects looking 'toward the Persian
gt|lf the has been hindered by
Btitalh and Russia.
Now a echool of British statesmen,
among whom Sir William Wlllcocks
may be counted, have arisen to ask for
Germany the outlet that she so sorely
needs. At present she la bottled up.
It l> this very repression, argue the
men of this new school, which makes
Germany a menace to the peace of
Europe and the world. Give her a le
gitimate outlet for her energies, and
the will ceaaa to keep the statesmen of
other nations awake at night. Let -her
take on Mesopotamia, or a large part
of It, and she will have troubles enough
right at hand, aa well aa a field for the
labor* of her auvplu* population. It
would be Inconsonance with the Ideals
of the Vwentleth century, and In par
ticular with those of Hlr William Wlll-
cocka, If ths great deam, and equally
g/eat achievement! of this Briton,
aided by others of King aeorge’s sub
jects, should be Instrumental In deliv
ering hla country from the peril of
German militarism, while at the same
time doing an Incalculable service to
humanity.
Back to the Garden of Eden,
The Immediate results of the new
Irrigation , are fairly staggering. The
land which within three yeara will be
calling for settler* will, according to
Sir William, be capable at once of pro-
1.000,000 tons of wheat and
0 hundredweight of cotton, not
tlon rice, date*, beans, barley,
oats, melons, etc. Sir William has fig
ured out an entire scheme for the moat
profitable order of crop*. This scheme
Is at the present moment visualised in
mountains of new-piled earth, great
canal*, throbbing engines, growling
stone-crushers, thumping pfledrlvers
(which use Lackawanna piles), ’and
regiments of alow and ringing Arab la
borers. Here are In prospect the
freight* of the new Bagdad railway.
The Zionists had a scheme fon the
colonisation of thla region by Jews, but
that ’will probably never go thru, eln
the first place, the present Turkish gov
ernment has pronounced unequivocally
against the Immigration of Jews. The
Bagdad Jewish community, whose chief j
rabbi I Interviewed upon the subject,)
are heartily against It. The Jewish
colonies In Palestine, where the climat
ic conditions are more favorable, have
not been successful to such a degree as
to warrant thetr extension to Mesopo
tamia. Jews show no taafe for a hot
climate, and the early Home of the
patriarch Abrahem Is subject to In
tensely hot summer*, so that the likeli
hood of any extensive agricultural Im
migration from Europe is very remote.
None, the leas, the romantic situation
has been created of a return of man
kind to tha Garden of Eden. In these
latter days, new forces of civilization
are turning a tide of Ufa- back to the
oldest home of the race. The teeming
population of ancient Mesopotamia,
with Its great cities, may again be
reallzed within the memories of men
end women who are already pest mid
dle life.
(Copyright, till, by Joseph B. Bowles.) L.
For a long time one of the chief rea
sons urged against giving women the
right to vote was that women were so
emotional ttiey could not be gafely
trusted with the ballot.
Now comes along a great nerve spe
cialist who declares men are far more
emotional than women, and that It has
taken centuries of training and hard
fighting to give them the power to sup
press their emotions, and to resist the
desire of a good cry, or go Into hys
terics.
Of course, men are more emotional
than women, tho they display their
"feelings" In a different way. Men—
that la, Anglo-Saxon men—don’t burst
Into tears when they get wrought up;
but neither do women, alwaya, unless
there Is something to be gained by It.
Weeping Is not a reliable barometer of
a woman’i emotions. It la the measure
of her ability to work people and get
what ihe wants.
Generally speaking, crying la becom
ing a domestic art. A wife weeps to
get a new drees. A business woman
doesn’t weep, because she’ll get fired If
she does, and so the waterline In emo
tion between the two sexes Is gradually
drying up.
Barring tear*, aa the Indication of
hysterics. In every other matter of tem
perament man la far more emotional
than woman, as even the most cursory
observation will show.
Take the Matter of Swearing.
Take, ae a very common example, the
matter of swearing. Suppose, In a
crowd, somebody steps on a man's foot.
Isn't the air Immediately rent with blue
biases? Doesn't the man sputter, and
fume, and emit forked lightning, and
call upon all of his gods to consign the
malefactor to pieces where he won't
need to wear an overcoat even tn win
ter?
But suppose an even worse accident
happens to a woman, and some great
lumbering lout treads upon her fine new
frock, and tears It post all mending.
What does the lady do? Does she rip
out a few slxzllng oaths and tell the
man what the thinks of him, and what
she hopes will be hla ultimate doom?
Not at all. She smiles sweetly and
serenely In his eyes, and says that It
doesn't matter. She may be thinking
things that begin with a big. big D. but
ahe doesn't utter them, and this Is a
triumph of self-control that no man
could exhibit under the circumstances.
Take note, also; of how men go to
pieces over trifles that women meet
with perfect calmness, as exhibited In
the simple act of hooking up a gown.
Every married woman will testify that,
when her husband fastens her'up In the
back, he yelps every time he Jams hla
thumb- against a pin and bolls over
with rage when he falls to make a hook
and loop-eye connect, and that, during
the entire performance, he taya per
fectly awful things that are shocking
to listen to.
Observe, too, the difference when
mother has a headache and when
father has one. Who's loony then?
When mother haa a headache, aho goes
about her business aa usual. Sho alts
at the head of ths table and sorves thq
soup, and sees that father has every
thing the way he wants It, and all that
anybody knows about her suffering Is
that she doesn't eat anything herself,
and looks white and drawn.
But heavens alive, when father
cornea homo (rom tho office with a
headacho there's something doing! He
keeps everybody on tbe Jump for hot'
water bags, and Ice packs, and poul
tices, and special’ dishes, and takes
forty kinds of headacho medicines, and
sapd* for a doctor, and a trained
nurse, and Is scared blue for fear ho
la going to die.
Any surgeon will tell you that a
little mite of a woman will walk into
an operating room and climb up on
the operating table with no more emo
tion than tf she were going to play
bridge, whereas nine-tenths of the men
patients are In such a blue funk of
fens they hare to be given a little
ether In their room* and carried, un
conscious, Into the operating room.
Women can get pretty well worked
up over a club election, but they never
go ao far as to yell themselves black
In the face, and tear off their hata and
dance upon them when their candidate
goes thru; nor do you evor obeervo
them walking about with a placard
around their necks, or trundling a
wheelbarrow up Broadway, or paying
other fool election bets Into which their
emotional temperaments have led
them.
MUD HUNGRY-By Winifred Black
What's the matter with husband?
Looka a- little grumpy, doe* he—kind of
absent-minded and forlorn, sort of sad
and lonely—and ones In a whll# you
catch him with a reallv desperate look
of sorrow and longing In hie tired
eye*?
What'e the matter—le he III?
Well—er—ah—that we* a pretty good
dinner he ate tonight, wasn't It? Sent
back for shortcake twice, I notice.
I don't believe he haa lost money In a
bad speculation? Haa a note to meet
and esn't think how he’s going to meet
It! No, things art* going"well down
town. And you haven't run up any ex
tra big bills, have you?
Maybe—oh, horror*!—maybe he’s In
love. In love with some lissome, lan
guishing fascinator, some dark enchan.
tress with Hoop ear ring* set with
gllmmlng emeralds that match the
wicked light In her eye*. Or maybe It’e
a blond* who haunts hie fancy—one of
those little, slim wisps of creatures
who looks as If she lived on moonshine
end pearls, and who eats up automo
biles and diamonds and bank accounts
as crocodiles eat up bad little colored
pusions. '
Ch, to think that after all these years,
and what you gave up for him, too!
Why, you could have three machines
now Instead of one, and a steam yacht
Instead of that little old electric thing
—and—and—and—
Fudge, slater, fudge and fiddlesticks!
Husband lent In lore, and he Isn't In
debt, and he Isn't on the way to a san
itarium. He’s just mud hungry—that's
all.
Mud hungry and dirt famished! He's
•lek of a comfortable house, a good bed
and three excellent meals a day. He
hates the sight of a clean tablecloth,
and It'* all he can do to keep from
throwing the cut glass lee cream dishes
at the head of the maid. He doesn't
want rugs; he loathes curtains; he
wishes every napkin In the world hail
gone, to the laundry and could never
get back again. His collar binds his
throat like a band of Iron. What a nui
sance a tie Is, anyhow, and he would
like to catch the man that first Invent
ed sleeve link*.
Mud -hungry—dirt famished—that's
all that's the matter with husband.
He wants to go fishing, he wnnts to
sleep on the ground and eat out of a
tin can; he wants to cook his own sup
per over a charred atfck, and he'll die If
you don't let hhn.
Go along? You? Why, you’d epoll
the whole thing. You'll hate It In the
first place—the dirt, the duet, the con
fusion. the dleoomfort—and you'll 'be so
out of place that you'll make every
one cross Just to look at you.
Do you want tu make husband your
slave for life? Tako that money you'd
save up for a new lingerie dress and
buy him a fishing roil. Don't buy It
yourself; got soma man who knows
about It to buy It. and don’t buy a book
of files. Tbat's half the fun of going
fishing—the buying of tho file*. Let
husband do that himself.
Don't tell him that you can't under-
etand what on earth he wont* to go for;
don't try to make him take you some
where Instead. Put yourself In tho
backfranud tor om-*»—«r mavi>« for the
second or third time—and let poor hus
band go and bt> dirty and disreputable
.mil Iinceinfortahl" *n,l savage ae an
Indian. He'll come home so dead In
love with you and hie clean house, and
hie good food and hie soft bed. and the
comfort of olean towels and plenty of
soap, that you'll look like Cleopatra to
him for six months.
Try It end see. Poor husband, he’s
only half civilized, anyhow, and at this
time of the year—It reallv hurt* him to
pretend he Ukea'ths process.-
Glye him a vacation—a vacation In
the woods, away from vou and from tho
little, flnnlky fuss and feathers that
mean so much to yogs-and watch him
appreciate them when he gets horns.
Esmeralda Emmeline
By KENNETT HARRIS.
Oh, Esmeralda Emmerllne, she gays me such a smile.
It set my heart a-beatlng with emotional rapidity;
I went my way exultlngly, ’but a little while,
My coursing blood subsided to its usual turgldlty.
Reflection brought about a philosophical stolidity,
A chIU went thru the marrow of my bones.
The sweetness of sensation soured to actual acidity,
hhe smiled about as charmingly on Jones.
Oh, Ksmeranda Emmeline, she wrote a dainty note.
And I was the recipient. It did teem very flattering;
But when I thought the matter out I called myself a goat.
I didn't care a snap about the sentimental smattering.
I'd noticed that such favors she’d a little way of scattering.
The simpler that I wore became a frown.
For lately, In particular. I’d found out from his chattering
' She’d send a dainty dlttle note to Brown.
From Esmeralda Emmerlln* I had a lock of hair,.
A flower from her bosom, which I cherished—temporarily.
But .Smith had Juat such tokens and young Johnson used to wear
A picture in his watch-case that she gave him voluntarily.
You see she wa* free-hearted and bestowed things ordinarily.
And said things that‘ah* really didn’t mean.
That's why affection waned and why I do my wooing warily.
I once knew Esmeralda Emmeline.