Judge — December 9, 1922 — page 25: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Authors in a Fog (Continued from page 21) HEN, again, there is Julian Street's | If you are about to fall madly in love with a beautiful and | temperamental opera singer and take her to Atlantic City in your limousine, read “Rita’ Coventry.” this book and refrain, But if your op. are limited, you will not find it of epoch- ing significance. Mr. Street is one t elderly writers who navigation of the # to the blind, diffieult f 1922 reality. All those Princeton gradua approved of Princeton men acting as strikebreak- sider every: Socialist a and who want nothir k to antebellum “Rita Coventry.” re doubtless the majority. But rity. of the 9 ger gi ving toward somethi and better, they know not quite what, in whom, after all, there is of “American ideal: . will rn “The Last Mile.” Ttis they who will be aware that American literature is now, never bef expressing the souls of the writers—blind souls, inarticula Is. perhaps, but the souls of men, not of tricksters mental soothing syrup for the childish readers of uur inagazines and “best sellers.” mi of those somewh prefers the ea ormulas of ers, and who so much as to go if comfort, will read what concocting PEAKING SO minded by the poems of little Hilda Conkling that nothing is less childish, sometimes, than a real child. ™ people subconsciously know that, and are afraid of children, A child looks at a tree, a bir id sees wonderful things. A grown up looks at them and sees a tree, a bird. He thinks aps that is a sign he is grown up, but rely a sign that he is dull and and to the child belongs the true wisdom. When life ceases to be full « wonder, it ¢ > worth living. say that poets are children is to pay then the highest compliment. Nearly all children are poets, but very few of them are articulate, Once in a generation or so, however, a child appears who can put the fresh, unspoiled. v Back in the ‘70"s there were the little Goodale sisters, up on Mount Everett in Massachusetts, Now there is little Hilda Conkling, who, like the Goodale sisters, has been encour: by a poetical mother. We miust confess that Hilda’s is the easier task, for in the 1870's free verse was unknown and the poor little Goodales had to wrestle with rhyme. Here is Hilda, without knowing it, telling us what makes a poet— A sunset, sunset. into the garb of words. I saw a mountain And he was like Wotan looking at himself in the wa I saw a cocks And he was like sunset clouds Even leaves ai Are different to my I keep wondering through Where all the beautiful things i Come frv And while I wonder They go on being beautiful Don't let this hard, practical old world knock Keep wondering, little Hilda! wrtunities for such amorous adventure of children, we are re MARGARET Partial List of Contents Preventive Means Certain? “Contraceptives er Abor- Why Not Birth Contre! America? the wonder out of you! If you keep on wondering, the beautiful things will keep on being beautiful, and you will keep on being a poet. There is no other way. And we want you to keep on being a poet, because, if you are as good a poet at twenty-four as you are at twelve, we shall be very, very’ proud of you. tae Some men get bald with rather a dull finish. Don't seem to take a high polish. Prat At St. Louis the other day Mr. Law- to Miss Alice Ho, rence Legg was married Waggoner—Alice Waggoner Legg. hum! 23 radiant bride at twenty— at twenty-five—what? Is the Husband or Wife to Blame? Is the hu nd or wife to blame for edy of too many children? ut birth con- Ng abe cherishes most: new freedom wld have a copy of For this reason Woman and the id No Money durable gray cb ed from large t coupon, TRUTH PUBLISHING CO. Dept. T-1412, 1400 Broadwa New York City Truth Publishing Co Dept. T-1412, 1490 Broadway, New York Cit Name Address Canadian and £ To Accompany the Gift of a Calendar ly Sarak Louise Grose PERHAPS I measles, Black eyes, or a piece of my mind, erhaps I might give you the Dickens— But I wouldn't be so unkind. Sometime, I may give you “the mitten,” Or a jab with a carving knife, But now I am sending a calendar, To give you “the time of your life!” sae The trouble about a sheer waist is that too often it is a sheer waste. might give you the