New-York tribune., 1922-04-30

pe'1'''Ht' hffop ls the Bf&t 0j fh5G 3
mast be apparent that The author rouid
ii IS safe TO assume that IL is uiic,lV (
n. m. The author returns home.
entering tho house through his oper
study window, He is followed closely
and silently by small boy, n lo:% of
whose hajr is curioualy missing.
so5 n. m. The author guardodly
consuits small mirror which he h Ids
in the palm of his right hand. From
n cage hung above his desk comes the
cooling Of three white pigeons. The
head of misery peers for a moment
through the window, and tncn, with
disconsolate gesture, turns baflcd
away.
8l5 a. m.-Thc author dcsccnds to
breakfast built upon a foundation Of
herring. During the meal he makes
intelligent remarks regarding the be
lated arrival of spring.
S:A5 n. m.-The author enters his
study and selects from the shelves
curiously bound copies Of "The Per
fumcd Garden" "The Complete Bee
Book" THE Chart" Queen Victoria"
and "The Thirty-two Suggestions"
11:45 n. m.-IIaving read in these
volumes for three hours he puts the
last Of them from him with a sigh.
"Old stuff" he murmurs, "old stuff.
And it does not seem fair, but there is
no help for it," He then consults his
watch, and sudden realization of the
time, with a hosty glance at his en-
gagement book, sends him plunging
through the study door and out Of the
house. On the veranda he crushes
three gray furry things (kittens).
Crossing the lawn his way is barred By
spoorn and calcar, but he outwits
them nicely by an unexpected display
of cantraps.
11:65 q. m,-By the river bank he
meets a brown woman. They sit down.
discuss all the possibilities of barratry
he holds her hand. Then, at the last,
she springs up, crying, ooh, sir And
whatever will you think OF me?' Where
upon he tells her, in a prose ballade,
improvised from memory for the occa-
sion and then she cries, in a white an
ger, "Do you now get from off my river
bank and be seen here no longer" Con-
sulting his watch and his engagement
book, he murmurs that ne really must
be getting on. SO he bids her an eter-
nal farewell In which he hymns the
praises of numerous unborn and strong
children. And he then departs for the
woods and a dryad of his acquaintance
before yesterday.
p. m.-The dryad Is waiting for
him under an oak tree, sturdy, but
perversely limbcd (the tree, not the
dryad). With a murmured apology the
author extracts q compact lunch box
from his pocket and nibbles hungriy
graciously that during his busiest sea-
son he finds it much more convenient
not to return home for luncheon. The
dryad is divinely patient. Luncheon
finished, the author boldly seizes the
hand of his woodland companion and
informs her that though he should
roam every wither, nowhere would be
find another woman who would be
wholly like her. The dryad giggles.
The author then grasps her other hand
and looking into her eyes sees there
as Meredith's Willoughby saw in an
other pair of eyes--the man he loves.
He knows that the time for farewell
has come, and running hastily through
his vale records he adroitly selects one
suited to tho occasion. But his adroit-
ness is not SO great a s one might sup
pose, for occasions Of this sort are
characterized by a depressing similar
ity. The dryad really shows up badly
at the last, failing to understand the
ultimate nature of his departure and
| insisting that she is always free on
Thursdays. Which is proof enough
as the author later implied in another
connection-that no poet should ever
love woman, in which category dryads
rs all will affirm who have ever had
truck with them) are obviously in
cluded.
3 p. m.-Being rather depressed by
the unsatisfactory termination of his
affair with the wood nymph, the au-
thor walks along the highway, dream
ing of the boy that he once was.
Which is a sufficiently perlous occu-
patton for men in their early fortiey.
And, as he walks, he thinks of Queen
Helen, whom he will see that very eve
ming. And at the thought Of her he
is further depressed, for he realizes
that she must inevitably, sooner or
later, share with him the knowledge
that he is no longer the boy that he