The daily sentinel., 1908-06-04
A RED HOT ROAST IS HANDED
THAT RACY THREE WEEKS"

weeks. ltS SuD-tltle SnOufu ne,
Study in Lust, by a Pure Woman"
/ say pure woman" because
genuinely bad woman" takes it out
in the natural way, but pure wo-
| man" hands the public her lubricity
done into volume.
| have known some of the best
women on earth, for God has been
good to me. / have also caught
| few glimpses of the other kind In
intellect, purity of purpose, and soul
worth, it is absurd to say that one
sex differs from another. But, un-
fortunately for woman, she has been
dependent on the bounty and gen
erosity of men. When you see diam
onds and finery on a man, they were
probably earned by the man. With
woman it is different: her guads and
jewels were secured from the male
party by persuasion, crook or con-
nivance.
Woman's work has been to work
the genus male.
| So long has she been enslaved, that
! the sex instinct has become over
weighted and sex safety and sex pros
| perity are the ruling motives in her
| life. IT. is always in her head,
place otherwise unoccupied-som
| timesl
|
Weeks" 1t is a woman's book, writ
ten for women. Men sin and forget
it, but women live their sins in
dreams and wallow in the muck of
their minds.
Men may be beastly in their bad
ness, coarse, rude, crude and cruel.
but they do not finger their feelings.
nor refine vice, serving it with a
| faint filling of fromage and patch
ouli.
i Hall Caine, Maupassant, Dumas.
| Zola, George Meredith and Thomas
Hardy give us pictures of human ma
ture overpowered. but their psyche
logical excursions are all in the line
of nature.
1t is left for the feminine mind to
| set up a lecher Nickelodeon and sup
ply Peep-show of vice in the name
of letters.
| Three Weeks is the end of the
limit. Three minutes would be long
enough. But idle, prurient, coward
ly, cautious. refined and artificial
femininity knows of ways to pro-
long the orgie.
Why and how the public should
have been seduced into buying the
book. is the real problem. Only the
very young or the very rotten could
read it, and since the very rotten do
not read, | opine it is read by the
very Young and the very idle. What
the Dime Novel is for the bad boy.
this book is for the girls who work
in the box factory.
| Maupassant has style, Zola has
ideas, Thackery has humor. Ouida
gives us biting sarcasm, and Rab-
| elais supplies the wit that disinfects
| the words that need it, but here is a
writer who knows neither literature.
art, geography, science, metaphysics
nor humanity.
| She has. read "Ships that Pass in
the Night but does not guess the
joys of the intellect. Her hero and
heroine are of the straight, black
; tumble-bug variety And the writer
has the supreme hardihood to call
| their tumblings by the sacred name
of love.
The story has not a smile in it
not flash of philosophy-no plot,
no situations. 1t is straight three
weeks of barnyard.
A readable novel has in it gooily
dash of fighting. fusslng and fast
I running. fused with mystery and the
charm of the unexpected. Here ev-
dry situation is obvious from the
time that the fat, lazy, idle, heavy
English ragoon-Durham, new size
sees the Ayrshire.
This heavy dragoon is lifted from
! Vanity Fair, and made as innocent as
Rousseau when he first met Madame
f, Warens. The lady in the case is a
Dago. Turkish or Polack queen, the
idea gotten from a cigarette poster.
The scene is Swiss hotel where
the queen has gone for rest from the
Troublesome One, who is, of course,
her husband. She has servants who
are plain wood-pulp fibre, without
eyes, ears, organs, dimensions, pas
sions. One of them has a gunny
sack full of gold and pays the bills.
This Kv-een is idle. tired, religiously
vicious, and is suffering from gall
stones and malnutrition-the result
of the Beecham Habit, Peruna and
Anti-fat. Her hair is peroxide, and
her complexion just as good. She
has gone the pace and is blase thru
too many fast trolley rides and the
multiplicity of Martins which she
has persistently tucked under her
straight front corsets.
The author. however. simply calls
her bee-u-tee-ful. lissome. willowy.
with a marble brow and a look of
supprcst sorrow on her pale and
classic face.
The descriptions of places are all |
pinchet from Badekcr.
Our Durham friend gets his beady |
eye upon her. and soon they are paw
ing up the sand.
This Is an old game with the lady; |
she has grown calloused at it, but |
now she feels the call of the Wild
or tries to-and flees.
Inc neavy one chases her. She |
eludes him. He stops, she peeks at !
him thru the branches. Then she (
fits, only to come around and call |
him by his first name and plant
motherly bromide kiss upon his rcd |