The So-called Human Race Part 48

E. H. R.

So the President has been converted to universal military training--as a war measure. Better late than never, as Noah remarked to the Zebra, which had understood that pa.s.sengers arrived in alphabetical order.

THIS REFERS, OF COURSE, TO FRANCE.

[From f.a.guet's "Cult of Incompetence."]

Democracy has the greatest inducement to elect representatives who are representative, who, in the first place, resemble it as closely as possible, who, in the second place, have no individuality of their own, who, finally, having no fortune of their own, have no sort of independence. We deplore that democracy surrenders itself to politicians, but from its own point of view, a point of view which it cannot avoid taking up, it is absolutely right. What is a politician? He is a man who, in respect of his personal opinions, is a nullity, in respect of education a mediocrity; he shares the general sentiments and pa.s.sions of the crowds, his sole occupation is politics, and if that career were closed to him he would die of starvation. He is precisely the thing of which democracy has need. He will never be led away by his education to develop ideas of his own; and, having no ideas of his own, he will not allow them to enter into conflict with his prejudices. His prejudices will be, at first, by a feeble sort of conviction, afterward, by reason of his own interest, identical with those of the crowd; and lastly, his poverty and the impossibility of his getting a living outside of politics make it certain that he will never break out of the narrow circle where his political employers have confined him; his imperative mandate is the material necessity which obliges him to obey; his imperative mandate is his inability to quarrel with his bread and b.u.t.ter. Democracy obviously has need of politicians, has need of nothing else but politicians, and has need indeed that there shall be in politics nothing else but politicians.

AN IOWA ROMANCE.

[From the Clinton Herald.]

Lost--A large white tom cat with gray tail and two gray spots on body.

Return to 1306 So. Third street and receive reward.

Lost--"Topsy" black persian cat. Any one having seen her kindly call 231 5th ave.

WE SHOULD LIKE TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED.

[From the Idaho Falls Register.]

A lady's leather handbag left in my car while parked on Park avenue two weeks ago. Owner can have same by calling at my office, proving the property and paying for this ad. If she will explain to my wife that I had nothing to do with its being there, I will pay for the ad.

C. G. Keller.

COME INTO THE GARDEN, MAUD.

[From the Tavares, Fla., Herald.]

The home of Mr. and Mrs. H. H. Duncan was the center of attraction Sunday afternoon. All the relatives and a few special friends were there to celebrate two happy occasions, the anniversary of Mr. and Mrs.

Duncan's marriage and the marriage of Miss Cora L. Peet, Mrs. Duncan's sister, to Mr. J. E. Hammond, and the soft winds of March had blown the planet of love over this beautiful home.

The composition of the decorations adhered with striking fidelity to nature. The wide veranda was completely screened in by wild smilax and fragrant honeysuckle vines, which entwisted themselves among the branches of sweet myrtle and native palms, fitly transforming it into a typical Arcadian scene beckoning to

"Come unto the garden, Maud; I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the muck of the rose is blown."

Soon the sound of music greeted the impatient ear. With a voice full of individuality of flavor and unusual quality, Mr. Carl E. Duncan, perfectly accompanied by his mother at the pianoforte, rendered "I Hear You Calling Me." Then the coming of the bridal couple was heralded by the solemn tones of Mendelssohn's wedding march. Never was a bride more beautiful; never--

[Well, hardly ever.]

AND HOW CALM THE OCEAN IS!

[Correspondence from Florida.]

I've fallen in love with the salt water bathing. It feels wonderfully refres.h.i.+ng here, below the equator.

POEMS YOU MAY HAVE MISSED.

Between the Barn and the Woodhouse.

Between the barn and the woodhouse, Where oft old Jersey would stand, I remember 'twas on this self-same spot Where she kicked Elizabeth Ann.

I could hear the clang of the bucket, And also poor Annie's refrain, And when the family reached her, She was writhing and groaning with pain.

Mother stooped dawn to caress her As she lay there stunned on the ground, And our big, simple minded brother Thought he should examine the wound.

Without halt or hesitation, He dropped to his knees in the dirt; Although she lay stunned and bleeding, He asked her where she was hurt.

Then Annie, in a half sitting posture, While resting on mother's arm, Feebly responded to brother, "Between the woodhouse and barn."

W. T. N.

"The Chicago convention left the Democratic party as the sole custodian of the honor of the country."--Orator c.u.mmings.

Some custodian, _nous en informerons l'univers!_

To the inspired compositor and proof reader of the York, Neb., News-Times he is General Denuncio.

"The plebicide showed an overwhelming majority in favor of King Constantine's return."--St. Paul Pioneer Press.

Very good word.

We were not alone in financing the war. An income tax payment of $14,000,000 was made in New York yesterday. The ident.i.ty of the individual is not disclosed, but the painstaking a.s.sociated Press says that "he is obviously one of the richest men in the United States."