The New York herald., 1922-07-30

a man is wont to select particular
road because he likes the looks of
it, rather than because he has rea-
son to believe it will take him any,
where; and given full rein, he will
unerringly pick out the long, long
trail that leads off the main highway,
around about and in and out, till it
lands you all in mudhole some
where beyond Robin Hoods barn.
Then and not until then win he stoop
to inquire the way Of somebody.
And this is why, where Caius holds
the wheel, Gaia sits beside him and
reads the Blue Book. / have no.
ticed, time and again, lawfully we'd
ded wife, when relegated by circum-
stance to the back seat, is never
quite at ease. Throughout the trip
there is strained expression in her
eyes. glued on her husbands back;
her lips moving as if in silent prayer,
while, with apprehension not un-
founded, she speculates futilely as to
where he will land them this time.
And woe betide Gaia, If, after hav-
ing taken upon herself the office Of
pathfinder, in single instance she
fall down on her job! She'll never
hear the last of it, If some time, when
Caius is making thirty-five miles an
hour, she exhorts him to take the
next turn to the right; and said turn
proves not to be the road intended,
merely negligible private way.
The Troubles of q Woman.
It's difficult task, being a woman
nowadays; we're expected not only
to know how to read, but to 'intu-
ish." all at the same time. I SUBJ
NIT either is just, but not both. But
to-day Gaia must be a mind reader;
weather prophet; geographer (def.
Locator: one who locates) Of places
to eat; likewise. expert in the traffic
regulations of Waterbury. Conn. In
the midst of black. pelting thunder
storm. penned in by side curtains
that give her about as much chance
to see out as a horse wearing blind
ers. from mile off she ought to be
able to smell out the detour i'm
pending around the corner at Third
avenue and Two Hundred and Some
af II
yesterday to tear up the road.
We do our best; and verify, we'd
better. There is a good deal Of talk
to-day about the intelligence tests in
vogue among psychologists for the
proper grading of school children,
factory operatives. and others who
can't protect themselves. And
wouldn't it be dreadful If men who
drive cars-I don't mean taxi chauf-
feurs and such, 1 refer to plain men
who grow in the suburbs-had, as a
prerequisite to securing a license, to
undergo an intelligence test?
How inconvenient, should the ex-
dllillcIS TAME Ui1 81 Ii1dliy pOlllS 1Df
the aspirant's clear inability to read
sign. stretching clear across the
road, Street closed" until the nose
of his car hits it, Or to reason out
that traffic policeman, waving an
outstretched palm and uttering men,
acing language, is not issuing a cor
dial invitation to "Come right along.''
For / would certainly hate to have
most of the nice husbands 1 know
set down as belonging in the moron
| class: and not necessarily of the
high grade variety. at that.
A Rhetorical Question.
Speaking of policemen. to-day,
verify, it's the hand that stops the
traffic, that's the hand that rules the
world. Strong men know this: Tro-
jan and Tyrian, capitalist, prize
fighter and plumber alike realize that
when the czar of the crossroads
bawls out, 'Is youse lookin' fer q