Part 11 (2/2)

I'll sit by the fire And feed him raw meat, And Harvey will roar me Clear off'n my feet.

The n.o.bel prize for the best split infinitive has been awarded to the framer of the new administrative code of the state of Was.h.i.+ngton, which contains this:

”To, in case of an emergency requiring expenditures in excess of the amount appropriated by the legislature for any inst.i.tution of the state, state officer, or department of the state government, and upon the written request of the governing authorities of the inst.i.tution, the state officer, or the head of the department, and in case the board by a majority vote of all its members determines that the public interest requires it, issue a permit in writing,” etc.

”'When this art reaches so high a standard the Post deems it a duty to publicly commend it.'--Edward A. Grozier, Editor and Publisher the Boston Post.”

But ought a Bostonian to split his infinitives in public? It doesn't seem decent.

Every now and then a suburban train falls to pieces, and the trainmen wonder why. ”What do you know about that?” they say. ”It was as good as new this morning.” It never occurs to them that the slow but sure weakening of the rolling stock is due to Rule 7 in the ”Instructions to Trainmen,” which requires conductors and brakemen to close coach doors as violently as possible. Although not required to, many pa.s.sengers imitate the trainmen. With them it is a desire to make a noise in the world. If a man cannot attract attention in the arts and the professions, a sure way is to bang doors behind him.

DOXOLOGY.

Praise Hearst, from whom all blessings flow!

Praise Hearst, who runs things here below.

Praise them who make him manifest-- Praise Andy L. and all the rest.

Praise Hearst because the world is round, Because the seas with salt abound, Because the water's always wet, And constellations rise and set.

Praise Hearst because the gra.s.s is green, And pleasant flow'rs in spring are seen; Praise him for morning, night and noon.

Praise him for stars and sun and moon.

Praise Hearst, our nation's aim and end, Humanity's unselfish friend; And who remains, for all our debt, A modest sweet white violet.

We like Schubert's Unfinished Symphony, Kubla Khan, and many other unfinished things, but we have always let unfinished novels alone--unless you consider unfinished the yarn that ”Q” finished for Stevenson. And so we are unable to appreciate the periodical eruptions of excitement over ”The Mystery of Edwin Drood.” Were we to read it, we dessay we should be as nutty as the d.i.c.kens fans.

Mr. Ba.s.so, second violin in the Minneapolis Orchestra, would seem to have missed his vocation by a few seats.

MY DEAR, YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN FRED!

[From the Milwaukee Sentinel.]

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