The Republican journal., 1915-09-16
Our Letter from Crawford's.

m JEAN JOOhNAL. AeieMoSuuS Ill
some of his philosophic philosophizings
has propounded the theory that there is
nobody in this world SO insignificant that
he does not derive some happiness from
feeling himself little superior to some-
body else. No person so lowly that he
does not feel little complacency in
drawing his garments away from con-
tact with some other garments belong
ing to somebody whom he considers a
little more lowly than himself. This, in
whatever degree it may be true, is no
doubt the result of a natural effort of
the eternal Ego to maintain its own little
place upon its own little island in the
great sea of space. | do no. claim this
stupendous idea as an original one. After
reading one of Robert Browning's ex-
quisite poems, have vague notion
that he was trying to reason out some.
thing like this, but got bewildered and
lost the thread of his argument. An
other poet. whose poems are not quite
SO exquisite or quite SO abstruse, began
at the other end of the scale and evened
things up:
"Every dog has fleas
And these have f1eas to bite 'em
And these in turn have other feas--
And so-ad infinitum."
Thus extremes meet, and from the
reasoning of my philosopher and the
poets, deduce the following: Life, for
each of us, comes pretty near being one
thing after another anyhow, whether
we play the part of king on throne
or flea on dog; and if we cannot be
as humble as we ought to be, we ought
to be as humble as we can be, for the
next thing is liable to be something else.
There was once man. carpenter, but
you probably know more about that,
dear Journal, than l do. l am not set
ting myself up to preach. l was just
thinking that day must come to each
ego, clinging desperately to its own lit
tie island IN the great sea of space,
when it must be swept away into the
greater, vaster sea of eternity-and
was wondering just wondering
| This serious train of thought started
yesterday, Sunday, when in search of
solitude climbed the stone steps lead
ing up the cliff from the shore of Saco
Lake, and then climbed higher and high
er up the steep side of the mountain.
When finally sat down to rest the world
was at my feet, the blue sky and the
immensely of space was above my head,
and behind me the Stiffness of vast
forest. A forest from which the eyes of
the big bear that has lately been seen by
several people, were probably watching
me critically and curiously, while his
bearship was making up his mind wheth-
er he would, or would not, like to have
me for supper. Almost straight down,
was the Crawford house, and the rail-
road station, and the road with its con-
slant procession of automobiles, coming
and going through the Notch. Voices
and laughter from groups on the veran-
das, the station platform, scattered
about the grounds and strolling around
the lake, floated up to me, softened by
the distance into something akin to
music. And so from my lofty perch
looked down upon my kind with medita-
lions that were sometimes whimsical and
sometimes serious. until the scene wear
led me and l started to climb down,
dreading the descent as everybody does
who has to climb down from a lofty
perch. "Be careful dear; don't 90 slip,
90 sweet little thing; be careful 90
little dear; don't 90 Slip" 1t was
woman toiling around curve and up the
almost perpendicular path, and what do
you think? The thing she was talking to
was only little brown dog on the end of
a string. l grinned, l couldn't help it,
and the woman painted, "Oh! l was so
afraid he might slip, the path is so steep
and so slippery you know" YES" l
said, land it is sleeper farther up, but
the view is great, be careful you don't
slip, yourself" She evidently had never
thought of that possibility, for she thank
ed me very heartily as the dog pulled her
along. Never having seen them since, l
cannot say whether one or both of them
slipped, or whether they got up the
mountain and down again in safety.
every dog has his day" is we'll repre-
sented at Crawford's this season. AS
near as can reckon there are ten high
bred, sristocratic little dogs stopping in
the house and three little dogs of lesser
pretensions stopping outside. One lady
told us the other day, speaking of her
King Charles Spaniel. "He is really
very delicate. He used often to throw
up his head and become unconscious
simply from Indigestion. l tried a great
many vets without success, but at last in
Paris, found man who understood his
case, and now he is on a strict diet"
and she went on with a most appetizing
list of delicacies that he could eat. In
the meantime the dear little dog as he
sat on our Office window ledge, kept his
eyes upon me, and watched every mo-
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