Evening star., 1917-10-14


privet hedge he backs, across two rows
of bush beans, and bang into hot-bed
where I was coaxin' along a couple of
hundred celery plants. 1t was some
crash as the wheels broke through the
glass. He wasn't satisfied. though. until
he had his hind feet in and had kicked
out all the panes he could reach. And
YOU should have heard the sQueals that
came from the ladies Watrous.
AS dashed to the rescue, Jean jerked
a whip from the socket and laced 1t
around Gingers middle. He didn't like
that little bit. With two jumps he
clears the hot-bed, breaks through the
hedge in a new place, and lands in the
drive again. headed toward the sound.
BY that time, though. Jean has got a
firm hold on the reins, and is standin'
up with her knees braced against the
high front of the cart.
One good pull and she had Ginger
back on his launches, with his ears
almost in her lap. Mrs. Watrous and
Cornelia tries panicky to climb out.
but they was SO scared they couldn't
undo the door at the back.
'Sit still, both of you, commands
Jean.
"Oh. p-p-p-please let US out" begs
Miss Cornelia.
Not yet" says Jean. 'T promised
you a ride behind Ginger, and you're
going to get it"
With that she slacks up on the reins
drops the mustang onto all four feet,
whirls him around sudden and gives
him another taste Of the whip. Once
more they was off in a bunch.
Now, that drive of mine, you know
has two loops in it-one in front of
the garage. and the other out by the
gates. / didn't lay it out for any vest
pocket kite-track when l built it. but
that's what 1t makes-about ten laps
to the mile. I should say.
1t don't take Jean Merrity long to
discover the possibilities of 1t.
We e-e-e-ough" says she. cuttin
loose with a regular cow-puncher yell
you could have heard half way to the
station.
She's standin' up. her feet well
spread. arm taut on the lines and
swingin' the whip with the other hand
You remember the old chariot race
stunt they used to pull at the circus,
where the bare-armed lady, with the
four grays always won from the man?
Well, Jean had that act lookin like a
piano solo. for. while there was only
one of Ginger. he made up in pep what
he lacked in size. He was we'll named:
AS he took the sharp curves he had
his neck arched like a high school
stallion, his wicked little eyes seemed
to blaze with excitement. and his nos
trils was the color of a red flannel
shirt.
Bumpety- bump. bump, they went
around the corners. sparks flyin' as his
shoes hit the gravel and only one
wheel touchin' at times. He sure could
hump himself. Ginger, when he was
properly urged.
And Jean was 'tendin' to that. I'd
always thought that heavy face of hers
never could light up. But it did then
Blamed if she don't look almost hand
some Anyhow, as she leaned to the
sway of the cart and Strengthened up
on the free stretches, she was more or
less graceful.
AS for the ladies watrous. they was
havin' the ride of their lives. all right
Each had a desperate grip on the
eyes. Mrs. Watrous' black lid has
jiggled over her left ear. while Miss
Cornelia's was down over her eye
brows and her back hair was comm
loose.
Two, three, four times around the
are possessed of no vision. A fine piece
of literary realism in it's method as 1t
is mastery and dramatic picture of
one of the uppermost conditions of
modern life.
vAGABONDING DOWN THE ANDES.
By Harry A. Franck, author Of "A
Vagabond Journey Around the
World" etc. Illustrations by the
author. New York: The Century
Company.
Half the value of being a good vaga
bond would be lost if the vagabond
We're not at one and the same time. a
good story teller. Harry Franck is
both. By virtue of the second gift
readers are permitted to go along with
this glorified hobo. tramping from Pan
anna to Buenos Aires. Cold, heat, hun
ger, fever, aching bones and scream
ing muscles are all in the days work
nd a
forgotten in the interest of each new
days poking around in the intrfcacies
of South American human nature. when
one is so fortunate as to strike the in
frequent human nature of much of this
long and dreary trail. An astonishing
amount of intimate detail piles up
around this journey-striking pictures
of the country, intimate views of the
natives. grimly humorous records of
daily happenings and very substantial
drawing off Of the prime essentials of
this giant walking tour. Innumerable
photographs of the vagabonds own
taking illuminate the text of this 600
page book of personal adventure. 1t is
an amazingly rich report. rich in sub
stance and riotously rich in color.
A NATURALIST OF SOULS: Studies I'm
PsychoEraphy. By Gamaliel Brad,
ford, author of Lee. the American,
etc. New York: Dodd. Mead & Co.
Washington: Brentano's.
Sainte- Beuve, explaining his method
of literary criticism, called himself "a
naturalist of souIs'-one who gathers
up souls, as the scientist gathers plants.
analyzing them for those individual and
essential qualities that make them
what they are. Mr.. Bradford, taking
pretty much the same method, calls it
"psychography." In substance 1t stands
as a protest against the long dead
levels Of conventional biography with
its arid time sequence wasteful and
unfocused process. On the other hand,
it claims a fluid superiority over the
detached. cut-out effects of mere liter
airy portraiture. BY way of the ten
studies of this volume, Mr.. Bradford
gives a demonstration of the method
of psychography. The English poet,
Donne: the Italian poet Leopard; AL
eXander Dumas. Anthony Trollope-and
six others-serve as the subjects OF
this demonstration. To find the soul
of the writer-to discover those in
herent and persistent essences and
qualities that lie beneath superficial
layers and accidental appearances
this is his point of departure along the
road of making a critical estimate OF
the work of that writer. AS one reads
here he finds that the method partakes
of both biography and portraiture-the
critical points of the former, the shift
ing views of the latter. But it has
one does arrive at more satisfying
standing place from which to appraise
the permanent values, from which to
seize the personal idiosyncrasy of the
writers here brought to the test Of Mr..
Bradford's method of criticism.