My sorrow rages high
When separate from Y.
And all things seem uncanny
When separate from Fanny.
[p 133]
]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.”
Fish talk to each other, Dr. Bell tells the Geographic society; a statement which no one will doubt who has ever seen a pair of goldfish in earnest conversation.
According to Dr. Eliot, Americans are more and more becoming subject to herd impulses, gregarious impulses, common emotions, and he is considerably annoyed. Heaven be praised if what he says be true! He would have individuality released; which is precisely what we do not want. Americans are not individuals, and they are not free; but they think they are. Therefore is America, in these troublous times, an island in chaos, where civilization, like Custer, will make its last stand.
Doctors disagree as to whether 70 degrees is the proper temperature for an apartment. This will intrigue a friend of ours who, preferring 60 degrees himself, is obliged to maintain a temperature of almost 80 because of his mother-in-law.
[p 134]
]“Women,” says Dr. Ethel Smyth, of London (perhaps you know Ethel), “women have undoubtedly invaluable work to do as composers.” Quite so. And any time they are ready to begin we’ll sit up and take notice.
Sh-h-h! On Main street in Buffalo, near the Hotel Iroquois, you can have “Tattooing Done Privately Inside.”