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Show " . : r : -3r- ko.ns snow ui: have Mlil.AM HOLY S I' I It I T The tru: spirit of Amvrira is Intensely In-tensely iii'-biiirliuiy. Co:;jli-d with thin f u ni I :t in ntal .s a dn :.-., i:; ii spirit of revi r. ru for woman's purity mat is almost r.;liKious. . Tn.i: iwo national na-tional i.-!:arit"t..-rl U!--s are exhibited beyond all due, ion in the- popular sonfjs that snrivivc llie test of time in the I nited Stales, declared A. (j. (Inllirans. ii, iniin wldr-ss in CliHaso recently. "Strange that the nost 'pept'iil' nations in the world should have In it this basic strain of sadness and Kloom." said Mr. Gulbransen. "Stranger, perhaps, that the land of .speed mania, jazz, crime waves, and insatiable amusement hunger should be the one where womanhood is revered rev-ered on a pedestal of sanctity. "Our souks prove it. Almost every popular ballad that lias lived and is suiik through the years is a heart-bivak heart-bivak song, or at least is full of teal's and yearning. Tears for the Old folks at Home, angel voices culling Old Black Joe, heart hunger for Sweet Adeline, Silver Threads Among the Gold, Last Rose of Summer, Sum-mer, and saddest tug of all at the heartstrings, Home Sweet Home. And every song is a spare as the snow at the North Pole. In this deep flowing mournful stream of feeling there is no room lor an impure im-pure or even a frivolous thought. Celestial, lost sweethearts, dear ones passed away, love for mother, these are the themes of the American homely muse. The 'mother song' has always been the surest of success on these shores. "Where are the jazz of last year? They are on the trash heap with the so-called 'coon songs' of twenty-five ' years ago. Let us gather round the registering piano while the player slips in a roll and starts 'My Old Kentucky Home' and hear all join in the plaintive strains. The American Ameri-can man is incurably pure, and beneath be-neath the speed and hurry of life, the stream of sombre melancholy flows like a river." |