The Richmond palladium and sun-telegram. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1907-1939, 1916-01-21

efnment6 call experts OF Qe0tu luVO
council. as Of old they consulted the
professors of tortue.
From such hideous panorama you
recoiled and turned your face to the
wall, but after sleepless nights and
days of agonizing pain you came
forth more serene, for the war Of the
Allied Microbes and the valiant Pha-
gocytes was over and every microbe
had been driven from the country.
So you craved cool orange-juice and
lines to heal up the ravages of an
internecine war, and as you sat up
your mind called for food Happily
your eye fell upon the gentle French
writer, Francois Cope, and you
drank in his pure and enhancing
narrative and his wonderful stories.
Cope Is not literary high-priest who
looks with disdain upon the human
herd. He is the poet of the humble;
he paints with sincere emotion his
profound sympathy for the sorrows.
the miseries, and the sacrifices of the
meek. He treats of simple existences,
of unknown unfortunates, and of sac
rifices which the daily papers do not
record. The strings of his fnstru-
ment vibrate readily to what is beau.
tiful and unselfish and delicate In
human feeling.
See how feelingly Cope tells us OF
the Gerard family, a widowed mother
and two daughters: "Ah, poor women!
The decay of this worthy family was
lamentable; but, in spite of all, they
endured their fate with resignation
Yes! the economy, the degrading
drudgery, the old mended gowns
they accepted all this without q
murmur. A noble sentiment sustained
and gave them courage. All three
the old mother in a linen cap doing
the cooking and the washing, the
elder sister giving music lessons al
forty sous, and the little one working
in pastels-were vaguely conscious Of
representing something very humble
but sacred and noble-a family with
out blemish on their name. They
felt that they moved in an atmosphere
of esteem and respect Their apart
lment-with its stained woodwork, Its
torn wallpaper, but where they were
Fall united in work and drawn closer
and closer to each other in love-had
still the sweetness of home; and upon
their ragged mourning, their dilapi
dated furniture, the meager meat souI
lat night, the pure light of honor
cleaned and watched over Them
j OF the war he says:
"Then humanity, after so many cen
turtles, had reached only this point
hatred, absurd war, fratricidal murder!
Progress? Civilization? Mere words
NO rest, no peaceful repose, either il
fraternity or love! The primitive
brute always reappears, the right Of
the stronger to hold in it's clutches
the pale cadaver of justice! What i,
the use of so many religions, philoso
phies, all the noble dreams, all tn,
grand impulses of the thought toward
the ideal and good? Is the horrible
doctrine of the pessimists true then
, Are W, then only animals eternal!
condemned to kill each other in orde
to live? If that is so, one might al
we'll renounce life and give up tn,
; ghost!"
So, reading Coppe's Romance o
. Youth" his Restitution" and 9TH,
Cure for Discomfort" you marvel a
the coarse prejudice in Americ,
against the French novel," and 20,
recall blatant revivalist who cantet
that if young man should ever Civ,
his daughter French novel," h,
would hunt him up and shoot him a.
, he would a viper And you recall tina
the profligate magazines of the da,
found their way into this mans hous,