Evening star., 1924-07-28
THIS AND THAT
BY C. e. TRACEWELL.

Too much stress is put on the larger
joys of life, not enough on the lesser.
but no less true enjoyments possible
to every one.
Among the latter may be named the
joy Of sitting down after supper.
preferably outdoors, among the men,
bers of ones family, with friends and
good acquaintances.
Each one has had his supping mess,
The cheese is put into the press.
The pans and bowls clean scalded ALL
Rear'd up against the milk house wall.
And now on benches all are sat
In the cool air to sit and chat,
Till Phoebus, dipping in the west,
Shall lead the world the way to rest
That was written by Charles Cot
ton, a. little-known poet of the seven
teenth century, but how pleasingly
it shows that men and women Of
far-off times were much like us OF
today in the little enjoyments of
life.
The grand romances, the high spots
OF existence, the thrills, these may
change from age to age, and, indeed,
do change.
1t was not possible, for instance. for
swain Of the good old seventeenth
century to place his lady beside him
in a "high- powered" automobile and
20 joy-riding through the kingdom.
Such a gallant. moreover, would have
gotten not the slightest thrill from
the wares of a bootlegger. for II was
freer than water. Everybody thought
it was much more healthful than
water.
In those days the lord of the castle
had no radio to "listen-in" with on
the doings Of politicians. Jazz music
had yet to wait centuries before II
was to spring upon an astonished
world.
But when it came to sitting down
after "supping mess" and just enjoy
ing life, those old boys must have
done about the same as Washing
tonians who may be seen any eve
ming on their front porches or sitting
out on the lawn.
Hsppy the man. of mortals happiest ne.
Whose quiet mind from vain desires is free;
Whom neither hopes deceive nor fears torment.
But lives at peace, within himself content
In thought or act accountable TO none
But to himself and to the gods alone.
perhaps the average individual
nearest approaches the ideal as out
lined above in the pleasant hour after
dinner, when the cares of the day
have been tucked away in desk
drawers. Millionaire or postal clerk,
it makes no difference then. In fact,
many lowly government worker,
happy after dinner, would not change
places with all the big men" in the
world.
Who can blame him?
Then, If ever, a man has much to
he fOr-0T nothing.
he who can find no chord of content
ment in his heart after good dinner
on a pleasant evening is ip need of
great sympathy.
There sits old Tom, purring like a
blue streak, his tummy well lined
with raw heefsteak. What more
could cat desire in world of dogs
and fieas?
Government workers, whether dis
satisfied with reclassifcation or not,
now can take to heart the lines of
Herrick:
Let's live with that small pittancc which we
Who covets more is cvermore a slave.
OF course, the poet could not fore
see the Federal departments in Wash
ington and the whole rec1assification
mess-but more of that later, per-
haps.
Now it is evening. The worthy
government clerk is in the bosom of
his family on the little front porch
If he is lucky enough to have a front
porch The katydids are holIering
The bad boys of the neighborhood are
screaming. The fourteen monographs
are blarine cut The Girl ! Love Be-
4.
players arc busily lulling Chinese
children to sleep with Shanghai Lul-
lahy.' Mrs. Jones, our good neigh
Dor. has quietly come out on her
porch to "listen-in" on a bit OF the
conversation.
Just when we are in the middle of
few "reminiscences of Grandfather
Smith and how he took the old clock
out on the back fence and shot it
full of holes with his shotgun because
il annoyed him during the night Mrs.
Jones will suddenly chime in with
few "reminiscences of her own.
!: y
Enjoy the present hour. be thankful for the
And neither fear nor wish tn approaches of
the last
Twilight steals down over the front
porch. but we sit here yet, despite
to break up the party. The boys have
departed to annoy the folks in the
next block.
Bill Smith comes out to run the
lawn mower over his lawn. Will you
please tell me why that Bill Smith
always waits until it is dark to cut
his lawn? I don't see how on earth
he manages to see the grass.
The shades of night are falling
faster than in the poem. a real har-
vest moon shines over Washington to-
night. Dear old aShington-the
place we live, wonderful us. 1t must
feel funny to live in towns with
queer names, such as Sandusky, ko-
komo, Mauch Chunk.
+ = 4 =
Let him who has enough ask for
nothing more" said Horace
Who would ask for anything more
upon a night like this? Asking for
something less is a different thing
entirely. Now, we could get along
very nicely with fewer mosquitoes
and less noise down the block; we
could survive on a decrease in the
number of automobile headlights
pointed this way, and manage to get
along on a diminished ration of fox
by this time of the information that
the girl he loves belongs to some
body else. Why doesn't the cuss get
girl of his own?