The Holbrook news., 1922-04-28


 THE international conference on
 l limitation of armament brought to Washington many eminent journalists l from Europe, one of the most eminent of whom was Henry w. Nevinson of England. He has been one of the best ing correspondents and is the author of numerous books. Mir. Nevinson came as the correspondent of the Manchester Guardian, newspaper which holds a unique place in English journalism. Its influence in politics has given it circulation almost gen. eral in Great Britain, and its accom- plished writers and scholarly editors make each issue piece of literature. Upon taking his departure from Amer lea, Mir. Nevinson wrote the following 'Farewelf'-an excellent eXemplifica- | tion of his keen powers of observation and his broadmindedness:
 In mist and driving snow the towers of New York fade from view. The great ship slides down the river. AL AN'tut thO uhiht SCuS eiObll bt- fore her. Good-by. most beautiful of modern citiesl Good-by to glimmer- Ing spires and lighted bastions, dream like as the castles and cathedrals of romantic visioni Good-by to thin films of white steam that issue from central furnaces and fit in dissolving wreaths around those precipitous heights! Good-by to heaven-piled of fees. so clean, so warm, where lovely stenographers. with silk stockings and powdered faces, sit leisurely at work or converse in charming easel Good by. New York am going home am going to an ancient city of mean and moldering streets, of ignoble coverts for mankind; extended monotonOusly over many miles; of grimy smoke clinging closer than blanket; of smudgy typists who know little of silk or powder and less of leisure. and charming ease. Good-by. New York, l am going home.
 GoOd-by to beautiful apartments" and "homes"! Good-by to windows looking far over the city as from mountain peak! GOod-by to central heating and radiators, fit symbols of the hearts they warm! Good-by to frequent and we'll appointed bath rooms. glory of the plumbers art, Good-by to suburban gardens running into each other without hedge or fence to separate friend from friend. or en- emy from enemy, Good-by to shady verandas where rocking chairs stand ranged in rows. ready for reading the volumlnOus Sunday papers and the Saturday Evening Post, Good-by. America, I am going home. I am going to land where every mans house is his prison-a land of open fires and chilly rooms. and frozen wa ter pipes, of washing stands and slop pails. and one bath per household at the most: a land of fences and hedges and walls, where people sit aloof. and see no reason to make themselves sea- sick hy rocking upon shore. Good-by. America I am going home.
 Good-by to the copiOuS mealS-the early grapefruit. the cereals" the eggs broken in q glass, Good-by to oysters, large and small. to celery and olives beside the soup, to sea food" to sublimated viands. to bleeding duck. to the salad course. to the individual pie or the thick wedge of apple pie. to the invariable slab of ice cream. to the coffee, also bland with cream, to the home-brewed alcohol, am going to the land of joints and roots and solid pudding; the land of ham Gnd eggs and violent tea the land where oysters are good for suicides alone, and where cream Is seldom seen; the land where mustard grows and whisky flows. Good-by, America I am going home.
 Good-by to the long stream of mo- tors-''limouslnes" or ''flivvers", Good by to the signal lights upon Fifth