New-York tribune. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1866-1924, 1914-12-20

what you gon say. But you pull those eye
together lg' it gon be mcz-z-thcn / got
be hang op an shot OPP. No one can stan the
mez-zi-'
"Wcll, laughed l. a am not ready either to
hang YOU up or shut you upl'
"Iow that are nizc' brcathed Miss Lemon
ccstatically. "You pcrfec' gentleman, pcrfcc'
lady-what you thing1'
PRECISELY" agreed /. "Now how can we pre-
vent the recurrence OF my pessimism and its
dircful rcsuts''
Jus Liz | tcin' you those fiddle while ago
laugh, eyinSdH.'
"Al right. Even when alone will laugh
did so. | was very happy. 1t pleased Miss
Lemon tremendously. But she had an access OF
thought.
"The mcz-z- come sudden. Jus liz the laugh.
No time range bout the hang op. Got tell you
now. Las will an tcstamen'. Till further notz.
Don bother bout neck. Those hard. But
feelin' sof. Don lig' be put in stove or on
ashpilc. Some peoples crule 'nough for those.
But YOU goin' be that kline with me, eijinsdn''
you shall always be my best belovedl' cried |.
"Ahl' sighed Miss Lemon in ecstasy. "Then,
dear barbarian, break my bones to you! An
proceed with those former languages bout
mez-z-'
"Wcll' argued |, "you know, to resume our
discussion that we hctionists are expected to
write OF what we think. at least is life--to
hold the mirror up TO nature. And life, you know,
is neither altogether sad nor altogether gay but
just-well-hfe. How can we be happy about
thing that is not happy, which is, in fact, pessi-
mstic?'
But suppoge you are fool, jus lig' you fool
other peoples, an thing life is what it is not?'
Don't see it all about me2 Don't live it
MYSELF
But mebbys lig' it made for you by some
other fooiShneSs?'
Certainly notl' said severely. 81 live it as
it isl
~Loog OUT shrieked Miss Lemon in terror. Il
not rady for hang-op. Please, Barbarian! You
say I'm pcrfec' lady. An pcrfcc lady jus got talk!
An rccomlcc' it is frs time aever conversc"
I'll remember laughed |. 1T would be
easy il you sat just there on the carrier Of my
typewriter always
But Away | hangl7 mourned Miss Lemon.
AN if YOU liz me Away you can have me! It's
up with YOU
Il understand, Said I, "and shall often have
YOU, never fear. But now, before DO something
TO hang you, tell me how to throttle this pessi-
mism Of a stiff-necked author. What is this life
he thinks he knows, and YOU evidently think he
does not?'
"Oh, Barbarian Scribber this is life, jus yen
an ro1rl JUS that sweetness Of YOU! BE Away
sol Then Away sit here an laugh-yes an cry
with you. When the thoughts an the writes
are g' those other, YOU do not touch the long,
long garment OF the Lord of Life. you do not hear
its frou, YOU do not know the fragrance Of it.
Scnbbler, it is but death you see an know an
write Of This fiddle death which prccedcs the life
that will blot out the universe with jus yOH That
largel Hail Thing bout those! Write bout those!
Not the bukkon on your sandal Not even the
smile of your believe; nor the thrill Of her anogy,
nor the tear Of her sorrow. Sometime life come
TO YOU in dream, an mex day YOU put it away
an shame TO speak Of it count you thing
it crrrazy. But, where are you when YOU
sleep, dear barbarian, On earth you are
dade-dade as can be. But YOU are live
somewhere? Well where is it? What are
those YOU see an hear EymsaH, you jus
fiddle bit Eternal Lac. An when YOU die