The Connecticut labor press., 1919-10-04

who drew this conclusion, for she cut the article out and inclosed it in 6 letter to her nephew, having written on the border of the clipping, Il won der whom it can mean !'
 George read part of 1t:
 We debate sometimes what Is to be the future of this nation when we think that | in a few years public affairs may be in l the hands of the fin-de-siecle gilded youths we about us during the Christ mas holidays. Such foppery, such luxury, 1 such insolence surely never prac- | ticed by the scented overbearing patri- l clans of the Palatine, even in Rome s most decadent epoch. With his airs of young milord his fast horses, his gold and silver cigarette cases, his clothes from New York tailor, his reckleSsness of money showered upon him by indulgent mothers or doting grandfathers, he re- spects nothing and nobody. He Is blase, if you please. Watch him at a social function, how condeScendingly he de1gns | to select a partner for the popular waltz | or two-step; how carelessly he shoulders older people out of his way, with what a | blank stare he returns the salutattons of some old acquaintance whom he may choose in his royal whim to forget!
 One wonders what has come over the new generation. Of such as these the re- public was not made. When we compare 1 the young manhood of Abraham Lincoln with the specimens we are now producing we see too well that it bodes i'll for the l twentieth century,
 George yawned and tossed the clip ping into his waste basket, wondering why his aunt thought such dull nOn- sense worth the sending. As for her insinuatiOn, penciled upon the border, he supposed she meant to joke-a sup position which neither surprised him nor altered his lifelong opinion of her wit
 He read her letter with more fn- l terest:
 The dinner your mother gave for the Morgans was a lovely affair. It was l last Monday evening, just ten days after | you left. It was appropriate that your | mother, herself old friend, should as- semble a representative selection of MT. Morgan's old friends around him at such time. He was in great spirits and most | entertaining.
 l He will soon begin to build his factory here for the manufacture of automobiles, | which he says is a term he prefers to | ''horseless carriages" Your Uncle George 1 told me he would like to invest in this 1 factory George thinks there is a fu- ture for automobiles; perhaps not for gen. | eral use, but as an interesting novelty. which people with sufficient means would like to own for their amusement and the
 
 Morgan laughingly declined his offer, as | MT M. was fully able to finance this ven- ture, though not starting in a very large way. Your uncle said other people are manufacturing automobiles in different parts of the country with success. Your father is not very we'll, though he is not actually i'll. and the doctor tells him he ought not to be so much at his office. as the long years of application indoors with no exercise are beginning to affect him hIl I haliaVa would die if he had to give up his work, which is all that has ever interested him outside of his family I never could un- derstand 1t. MT. Morgan took your mother and me with Lucy to see Mod ieska in Twelfth Night" yesterday ming. and Lucy said she thought the duke looked rather like you. only much more democratic in his manner. Hoping that you are finding college still as attractive as ever,
 r AffectionateIy,
 AUNT FANNY.
 George read one sentence in this letter several times. Then he dropped the missive in his waste basket to join the clipping, and strOlled down the corridor of his dOrmitOry to bor- row a copy of Twelfth Night" Hay ing secured one he returned to his study and refreshed his memory of
 
 ment that enabled him to comprehend Lucy's strange remark. However, he found himself impelled in the direc- tiOn of correspondence, and presently wrote a letter-not a reply to his Aunt Fanny.
 Dear Lucy: No doubt you will be sur prised at hearing from me soon again, especially this makes two in answer to the one received from you since getting back to the old place l hear you have been making comments about me at the theater, that some actor was more demo- cratic in his manners than am, which I do not understand. You know my theory of life because I explained 1t to you on first drive together, when I told you I would not talk to everybody about things I feel like the way I spoke to you of my theory of life. I believe those who are ble should have true theory of life, and I developed my theory of life long, long ago.
 We'll here I sit smoking my faithful briar pipe, indulging in the fragrance of my tabac I look out on the campus from my many-paned window, and things are different with me from the way they were way back in freshman year. I can see now how boyish in many ways I was then. believe what has changed me as much anything was my visit home at the time 1 met you So l sit here with my faithful briar and dream the old dreams over as It were, dreaming or the waltzes we waltzed together and of that last night before we parted, and you told me the good news you were going to live there, and l would find my friend waiting for me when I get home next summer
 l will be glad my friend will be waiting for me. I am not capable of friendship except for the very few, and, looking back over my life, I remember there were times when I doubted if l could feel great friendship for anybody-especially girls. Here in the old place I do not believe in being ail-fellow-well- with every Tom. Dick and Harry just because he happens to be a classmate any more than I do at home, where I have always been careful who I was seen with largely on account of the family, but also because been to encourage real intimacy from but the few.
 From several letters from my mother. and one from Aunt Fanny I hear you are seeing a good deal of the family since 1 left. I hope sometimes you think of the member who is absent I got a silver frame for your photograph in New York, and I keep it on my desk. It is the only girls photograph 1 ever took the trouble to have framed, though I told you frankly I have had any number of other girls photographs, yet all were only pass ing fancies and oftentimeS I have Ques- toned in years past if I was capable of much friendship toward the feminine sex, which I usually found shallow until our own friendship began. When I look al your photograph 1 say to myself At