Evening star., 1922-04-30
z y YHO killed cockrobin?
M He lay on his back in the
w Capitol grounds. his rigid

wings folded as smoothly as II he were
asleep-sranting that robins sleep that
way-and the feathers Of his red brown
breast as unrumed as II he had Just
preened them with his bMl-provided
that is the way robins DO. No animal
had touched him. and no boy had down.
ed him with a stone. He was just dead
like people who die Of something sud
den-hsart trouble or stroke.
Findings is keepings. so the person
who had noticed him on the grass pick
ed him up. because he was too pretty
marauding blackbird or squirrel. And you
would have been astonished to feel the
coldness under all those feathers. You
would also have noticed that though the
small thing was stark in outline and his
eyes were glazed. there was something
other. greater. inscrutible something
that exalts the human dead-which. Of
course, may sound like nonsense, only
you will have thoughts. Maybe that IL
what brains are given for.
The finder wrapped the robin In her
L M.s time for i to {. 'in ane
that she would take the body home and
bury It In the yard. But II came to her
that all Of Us want to lie as near as
may be to the things we loved when
living. so she followed a path until she
came to where workmen had been root
hole deeper with . lead pencil. lined It
with the wire grass. laid him In and
covered him over. And, - every burial
= better for the dignity Of q funeral
service, the finder aaid:
I'm the next world there are waters Of
eternal life. And where there ts water
there must be trees. And whore there
are trees there are birds. Amen"
4 + \ 4
THIS would be one monotonous old
L world II everybody in 1t were
made In the same mold, like tallow
candles. Naturally. the opinions of
other people are not SO good or so
clever az our own. Still, we have to
admit that there are others. One, for
illustration, came out Of the friendly
unknown to o dramatic critic who
couldn't acknowledge its wisdom for
the reason that no mere earthly post
office could be expected to deliver
mail to "A Hard-Boiled Gallery God:
dess." But as all Is grist to this small
ever the wind listeth, which makes 1t
one, here 10 q sheaf which refers to
q play seen. here some weeks ago:
II am writing this letter to let you
know the candid opinion OF one won. :.
an Of those audiences. OF course: u
Is only the humble opinion Of q 'po,
may be valued accordingly. AS
child I never attended the theater for
the simple reason that We did not
have the money. In the last twenty
years have seen pretty nearly every
thing worth while which has been
here. am very fond OF the theater.
which / have gotten many wonderful
visions Of life. I am intensely inter-
ssted In people and enjoy the study
Of humanity ~ It 10 depicted ON the
fhs name Of David Bslasco used
70 % one 70 son5ure with; ,sasx ana tna5 ma
Ill too valuable time in seeing The
Grand Duke was bored to exttnc-
t!on. I heard one woman eay It was
the most boresome' play she had ever
sat through. While on the subject OF
plays, why do dramatic critics seldom
sas,'o sanssy On 'es sss ssasei Il is most dis
tasteful e those who reverence the
name Of God. I should like to have
e explained BY some psychologist
why it to that Whenever the name OF
God 70 profanAd on the stage. 1t always
1e1nko down tho house. Also, why do
you not show up all these English
horse who aro coming over In droves
20 talk % 70 death and carry our
9ood hafd cash back with them1
poid )i.ie IN the sal1ery to hear Mar.
rot, and see that she took 100000
9ood iron men homo with her. Fifty
cents would have been plenty for all
I heard from her. She vas not such q
deadly bore ~ Tord Dunsany, who
sat ana read why the MIX Man
8huddefo When He Sees the Dawn
ali che while he dabbled his hand in
WAtef and moistened his brow: or OIL
hert X. CheSterton. who had the audi
snes y 2 comstose state BY the time
two BEEN Americana. I should have
yelled Oct the hook!' or Bring me a
strstcher And take me out?'
"Afeer this. when you review a
state frankly. This play IL not worth
{ sa,." s1ss ss,,,, ws,n!ss sr.,!, woman wasting
IRIS IL the season when some peo-
PIE who cali themselves nature
lovers 20 on little outings to the coun-
try to butcher blossoms and trees.
Last Sunday dusk. one street car
was as much like q faded bouquet as
armloaAs Of doGwood. fruit blossoms
and dald flowers could make II. The
frAgilo thineD had Wilted in the car
ryin9, and were. doubtless. most OF
them, to be thrown away before they