The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1907-07-04
TASTE FOR LITERATURE.

And be it ever so profound,
Expounded by some ancient sage
Yet he'll devour 1t page by page
With careless mien and free.
Were I goat 'twould make me gloat
In glee!
For as the matter stands with me,
delve in books increasingly;
Yet some read of vast portent
And never know just what they meant
fear with sorrow be it said)
My stomach's stronger than my head
A dreadful way to be!
That's why I'd gloat. were I goat,
You see.
The goat a cultured taste has he,
And catholic as it can be.
Through libraries he'll browse with zest
Though nowadays there's stuff that's writ
Would give a goat a coughing tit,
But all! the goat a husky throat
Has he.
With clever perspicacity
I've learned q thing that startled me.
Since myself has writ book
And all the papers that read
Have hired goat to do the deed
IT'S true as true can be-
And much I've wrote has smote a goat
Or stuck, I fear. within his throat,
-Burges Johnson in Harpers
Tho Lover of Loneliness.
I saw her sitting on the curb the
other day. She wore roller skates, but
her feet were still. In her eyes were
other children were flying down the
block. They brought up at the corner,
one by one, with dizzy whirls-the
kind of whirls that make the very
sheer amazement. The other children
laughed and screamed and chased
each other. But she, the One Who
Likes to Be Alone, had slipped apart
and sat, chin in hand, gazing steadily
into a far country.
"Ah,' I said, "be careful, little girl!
That is a magic country. 1t will steal
your heart away. 1t will seal your
lips. 1t will deafen your ears to other
voices than its own. Run away now
long on the bright glories of that land,
you will find some day dim veil be-
tween your stretched-out hands and
all the tender, warm and living hands
about you; great gulf fixed between
your heart and other hearts. Your feet
mon path of EARTH
Why it is so ? do not know. I only
know that sometimes this may be.
know that 1 reach out my hands for
life, and find them filled with shadows.
1 try to walk upon the earth, and
touch only trailing wreaths of mist.
Looking that day at the frail beauty
of that child face, saw other faces
clustering. lowering there, like cloudy
cherubs round Madonna. When she
their words between.
$50 flee. little girl, while you may!
Lock the gates that guard the roads
to Dreamland and throw the key out
among the stars"
And yet-her eyes were very happy
What If she should lose the key, and
then in after years, longing for the only
land in which her soul is not an alien
should bruise those hands and fall al
last exhausted before the great barred
doors? And then, it's not so sad a
thing as 1t may seem to love the Lone
illness. For in that country, whose
last and Utmost gate one must enter
with no louder sound than the pulse
of ones breathing and the spring OF
ones own blood along its highways, Oh
perchance the faintest rustling OF
word-em broidered leaves-in that far
country, as 1 say, are visions brighter
than faces of much-Ioved children
There are tender thoughts sweetel
than caresses. There are allurins
shapes of wonder and of grace and joy
| There are radiant, immortal words
that wing the soul and send 1t leapins
through fine, high realms of thought
and ecstasy. There is forgetfulness OF
sorrow, solace for a weary heart, the
rarest comfort and companionship a.
| will.
And so-God only knows!-Henri
Sherlock Again.
Sherlock Holmes languidly drained
the bubbling, kissing prussic acid-hi
| last, most deadly habit.
My dear Watson he murmured
my tie is crooked"
His friend started, as he knew h
would.
| Now, Holiness said his friend
| chow can you be aware of that? Yo1
| II I,or 10 g.
| the last two hours, and there isn't
mirror anywhere in sight. You CLAIM
/ to have no supernatural gifts-in wha
way, then, can you possibly know tina
your tie is crooked?"
THAT man over there" said Sher
lock Holmes calmly, looked at my I'll
a moment ago, and then straightene,
his own with both hands,
"Wonderful!'' cried his friend
Amazing! Only Holmes, your tie ism
crooked"
QUAKER REFLECTIONS.