The Birmingham age-herald., 1911-06-23

of Summer Man of Yesterday evaporates into thin air as she and Aunt Arabela grow reminiscent. | Do you remember Sheridan Jackson?" asks Cousin Lucretia knitting away pla- cidly.
 The Maiden Aunt remembers perfectly. Shall you ever forget the evening he came to the Hop and smoked cigar while he was waltzing with the girls?'
 "He was drinking that evening, my dear" reminds Aunt Arabela.'
 Yes" replied Cousin Lucretia," they said afterward that all the men that evening were intoxicated"
 Eighteen-Year-ol Bess raises her eye brows and does some thinking.
 ''The next day James Wilson was to go to Martin Wallaces exactly at for his answer" Cousin Lucretia went on. "She openly avered that his heart was a coat and that he had spread it down in the worlds mire for her little feet. When he did call I remember that he spent most of the time apologzing for being tipsy the evening before"
 "She should have known better than to believe any man at a Fourth of July dance" said Aunt Arabela.
 'I don't know any men at all who get drunk at our dances" said Eighteen Year-Old Bess. "If they did, the rest of the men would put them out-wouldn't let them come inside the ballroom!'
 And after all. Eighteen Year-old Bess concludes that the stories about the men of yester-year. uncovering their heads when they breathed lady's name, who poured out their souls in serenades, and who spread down their mantles. Sir Wal l ter Raleigh-like, were all deusion and a snare and might as well be relegated to the shades of antiquity-for all they counted!
 Clowns we all know were funnfer when we were 5-year-olds; and peppermint can- | dy very much sweeter and the sticks very much longer than children get for a nickle | now.
 | Taken all in all, the world. while it may not be making seven league strides grow ing better, is certainly no worse than it was formerly.
 We may not be told in such "Sidean | Showers of Sweet Discourse. that we are unparalleled creatures of loveliness, but | to be called "a peach sounds mighty good and very complimentary, and we are not making a kick about it--not by jug full.
 | Richard Lovelace, the Matinee Idol' of the literary world in his day and later days worte thus to Lucasta when he was going to war:
 "Tell me not, sweet, am unkind That from the nunnery | Of thy chaste breast and quiet mind | To war and arms I fly.
 could not love thee. dear, so much | Loved I not honor more" l But my word, when he is captured dur ing the war it is quite another lady that | he indites sonnet to from his lowly prison-oh yes, believe me. the other lady l is "Althea." and to her he wrote:
 Stone walls do not prison make, Nor iron bars cage | Minds innocent and quiet take | Take that for an heritage.
 If have freedom in my love And in my soul am free, Angels alone that soar above
 Enjoy such libertyr'
 Oh very well, Mir Richard Lovelace, we even forgice you for your fckleness | (for fickle you certainly were) and we even wish there might have been ,others' besides Lucasta and Althea if they in spred you to strike your poetic Tyre to strains so enchanting. but we do arise to remark at the same opportune moment, in defense of the Summer Man of 1911, who has two strings to his bow to say | that he isn't establishing precedent for it has been going on for To! these many years and probably will continue so to do, until men and women are no more.