Volume 1. No. 13 NOVEMBER, 1910 Copyright for 1910 C. P. Gilman
"The Public Wants Facts!" says the Popular Editor; "Give us the Facts!"
Haven't we had all the Facts in the universe before us always?
Isn't it time we learned to think about them?
WORSHIP
How does it feel?—
The drawing of the magnet on the steel?
All else gives way;
No rivets hold, no bars delay,
Called in that overwhelming hour,
From far and near they fly and cling,
Allied, united, clustering;
And the great pulsing currents flow
Through each small scattered scrap below.
Scattered no more;
One with that all compelling core;
One absolute, one all alive with power.
How does it feel?—
The swift obedient utmost flight
Of radiant sky-wide waves of light,
Far couriers of the central sun,
Crossing a million miles as one—
Still going—going—
Limitless joy that needs no knowing
Each last least flickering ray
One with the Heart of Day.
MY ASTONISHING DODO
She was twenty-six, and owned it cheerfully, the day I met her.
This prejudiced me in her favor at once, for I prize honesty in women, and on this point it is unusual. She did not, it is true, share largely in my special artistic tastes, or, to any great extent, in my social circle; but she was a fine wholesome sweet woman, cheerful and strong, and I wished to make a friend of her. I greatly prized my good friends among women, for I had conscientious views against marrying on a small salary.
Later it appeared that she had other and different views, but she did not mention them then.
Dorothea was her name. Her family called her Dora, her intimate friends, Dolly, but I called her Dodo, just between ourselves.