The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1917-12-04

Once upon a time there was Tired | Business Man, who had actually for gotten how to play. The thing that most mortals called pleasure meant 1 only duty to him-a sad, solemn obli- gation. Of course, as time went on, his malady became aggravated; then the song of a golden-throated bird, or the daughter of a little child irritated him beyond measure.
 The tired business man lived in the city. Seasons came and went almost without his knowledge. The place he called home-and it would be funny were it not so sad-was in tall build ing that adjoined other tall buildings, and across the way was the same kind of tall buildings. Between the two rows of huge structures was a chasm commonly designated as a street. Ev- cry day, for few minutes, the sun I played down tantalizing1y into this Hcanyon, making strange patterns of silver and gold upon the pavement.
 The tired business man walked a few feet from the door of the apart ment house in which he lived and went down into the earth to take an underground railway train to his of- l flee. The principal product of the l subway was bad air, and it was vitia- ted air that he breathed for an hour or~two each day. It improved neither his health nor his disposition, as may we'll be imagined.
 A man who forgets how to play loses all sense of friendship, because the spirit of play and of personal charm are inseparable. It was not long until the tired business man found lthat almost without his knowing it, T he had caused himself to lose all fhis friends.
 He did not dream for a moment the true nature of, the situation-that the fault was his. He knew something was wrong. but he laid the blame to his friends and wondered how there could be so many people afflicted with the same ma1ady. It perpelxed him. But there was someone who un- derstood. It was the wife of the tired business man. She was a peculiar woman, with ways that he could not lfathom. Every summer she went to a place she called "the country" You see, the job of being the wife of a } tired business man is no sinecure, and
 she found peace and quiet and rest in
 tke resgion SO unknown to him and
 her talk was odd--about strange things. She told him about old-fashioned gar dens that were decidedly not old-fash- toned on the roofs of the theatres, de- signed especially for tired business men, She patiently explained that she meant gardens in which flowers grew
 and she named over the products o1 the different seasons.
 She told him about the joyous free
 dom in the vast open space, and about that ever-recurring wonder in the re-
 birth of nature each spring; of the tender green buds peeping forth from
 the blackened branches of veteran oaks, naples, and elms. She whis- ) pered about the glorious transforma- tion of the gnarled misshapen apple trees, when the. white blossoms burs1
 in a great shower, and about the sweet-scented perfume of the glorious cool nights, with the yellow moor hanging low in the mists over the meadows. a
 But he did not understand; his mint was all clogged with 8 congestion o. business affairs. ..e , It is easy to see that he was al l most 8 hopeless case, and anyone ex
 cept a very brave and courageous wo
 nan would have lost faith and giveI Jim up, But, strange as it may seem