Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1919-04-03
An Ideal Bedside
Book


Ing laid their heads upon the inflow in
stantly become wrapped in profound
slumber. Nothing awakens me. With
me the dormouse Is an also ran. Indeed
once in France-but doubt IL YOU
would believe me.
And so / was surprised last night to
fnd myself lying awake. I was wholly
at loss. and could not understand il,
such a thing had not happened before .
and I groped around for an explanation.
Manfully 7 groped, but without result,
None of the traditional causes Of Sleep
lessness seemed to fit my case. / had
not had cheese for supper-I hate
cheese: it could not be change of SUR
roundings, for I had taken the step
from military hardness to civilian soft
ness without, SO to speak, noticing it.
gave up my quest, and decided to
turn from causes to cures Accordingly
closed my eyes, and G once Pei
manized had no difficulty in arranging
the usual scene of rustic charm-the
well-kept but narrow gate and the
brigades of sheep passing through in
single file, keeping well closed up. On
them concentrating, counted.
At five thousand apd two gave up
the unequal contest, and decided to try
something fresh. I remembered some
one mentioning. Think about Nothing" ."
I thought of nothing. Then Il thought
Of everything. Rapidly unpelmanizing
myself pondered on The League of
Nations, Do Woodcock Carry Their
Young, The Place of Ella Wheeler Will
cox in Contemporary Poetry. The Age
Of Mr.. Bottomley, and the Causes of
Cramp in the Left Foot-all at the same
time. 1t was a superb effort but un-
availing.
Next I lay with my eyes wide open
a remedy strongly advocated by my
great aunt. cursed her Then I lay
on my left side with my eyes shut, and
on my right side with my eyes open.
Frantic, I lay on my back Maddened.
I lay inverted. prone. Finally lay en-
tirely covered by bedclothes, but this
too Abandoned feeling was too young
to die. And then lost command of my
immortal soul and surrendered Only
one thing was left
To read. To fall asleep reading.
I walked across to a small shelf Of
books which stood on side table, and
bore them back to my now repugnant
couch. put on my glasses. picked up
a volume, and opened it. The Anatomy
Of Melancholy" Capital" thought T..
Now we shan't be long'-but old
Robert failed me, and after a stout effort
to be lulled by his interminable quota
tons, I threw him into the fireplace
Kant next proffered his critique, and as
sured of success this time, opened that
deplorable tome. Will you believe me
Il found 1t almost interesting. Through
the open window flew Kant, Samson
Agonistes" following at his heels broke
pane of glass. my elevation being at
fault.
/ danced on "Jane Eyre" and kicked
Tom Jones' round the room. tore
1.-THE Rosary" to shreds, laughing evilly,
In attending to "Caleb Williams" stub
bed my toe and broke my spectacles
-. began to grow angry 80
And then found It,
1t is a book which, in the past. have
rather despised-certainly read with re-
, luctance. An ideal bedside book though,
full of sterling stuff; lacking perhaps in
humor, yet surprising one suddenly by a
quaint touch, and curiously illustrated
| 1t Ia quietly yet tastefully bound in red
and titled in handsome gold. The print
! ing itself is all that 1t should be, ane
the subject matter is guaranteed to act
with more violence than veronal on the
most despairing victim of insomnia.
AZ. II UFa1l
| The title? "Infantry Training, 1914"
| j. B, Brown, in London Opinion.