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Show fhl.PhiIlipr VISIT BY A REFORMED , GOLFER John Kieran, the well-known Quiz Kid, dropped in on us at our woodland wood-land nook', Lassitude Marshes, the other day. He left us feeling more ignorant than usual. Events that were just about shaking shak-ing the world were occurring, but the Wizard of Infoplease tossed them aside for native flora and fauna. Considerations of sensational episodes in Germany gave way to a study of the yellow thorn apple, the Far East crisis made way for a study of the night heron (working on the day shift), and nothing that Roosevelt and Dewey might do took precedence over the operations of robin, wren and meadowlark. Mr. Kieran carries a microscope as he walks along country lanes, and he peers at every weed in the manner of a man locating the mainspring main-spring of a Swiss watch. "It begins to look as if Hitler is about through," we observed as the hike began. "Wild onion," was the answer. "Bet you didn't know any grew like this. Pretty flower under the scope, too." "Once things of this nature begin in Germany anything can happen," we persisted. "Look! The flight is bumpy. Always Al-ways tell it's a goldfinch." "I remember the last war . . ." "Tansy. Otherwise known as Bib ter Buttons," John was saying, with a glass in his eye again, as h inspected a yellow flower which w had spent a lifetime ignoring. H asked us to examine it under the microscope. We did. Darned if it wasn't an exquisite thing when mag-lined. mag-lined. . "Now you take those Russians," we suggested. "Sassafras!"" announced Mr. Kieran. "Think so?" we replied. (He was referring to "a green leaf he had picked.) "Taste it." We tasted it. He was right again! '"What do you think of Truman as against Wallace?" we asked a moment later. "Cowbirds!" "Oh, I wouldn't say that." He was pointing to a couple of birds we had always thought were overfed sparrows. "Lay their eggs in other birds' nests. Let the other birds hatah and t"atsetha"yourTg. 'AhoThere's' a ques- tion: How comes it that the young cowbirds, j never having seen or known a cowbird, will at once leave the nest and join cowbirds?" "It must be political," we ventured, ven-tured, not needing the twenty-five dollars anyhow. "There's a bunch ol cranes over there by that maple." "Night heron. Flies with its feet out straight behind and its neck folded like a snake. And that's a black walnut, not a maple." He now picked up a small yellow flower which we had never thought worthy of passing attention. "You know the snapdragon. This is the uncultivated type. Butter and Eggs, it's called." Under the glass it was quite beautiful. "What's this?" we asked, picking a small yellow flower that seemed the only one of its type around. We thought we had him. "Moth mullein." We felt pretty thick about things until a rabbit ran across the road. Here was our chance. "Rabbit," we announced brigHtly. "Could be," said John. "Dogorun trackibus Miamibeach-us," Miamibeach-us," we added, to give him the Latin. He had intended leaving on the noon train, but took the 11:05. Hitler at bay issues a warning that he will make Europe a welter of blood. Recalling the old story of the fellow who said: "My daughter's eloped with a no-good, my wife has run away from me, my little boy just fell down a well and I don't feel very good myself. And you sav you'll make trouble for me'" ... The prices at summer hotels and for cottages at vacation resorts have soared this summer, and an awful howl is going up. Whatcher kickin' about? Don't you know that cool breezes are harder to get these days on account of the war? Don't you understand that high tides aren't what they used to be, and that in some places they have to use substitutes? ... Lester J. Fitzpatrick, manager of a Detroit radio station, would be our choice for President. He has banned the "middle commercial" on all radio ra-dio broadcasts, declaring that they "do more harm than good to the station and to the advertiser." ... George Bernard Shaw has come out against any punishment of the Nazi war leaders. He says they must be treated gently after the war. It would be nice if Mr. Shaw did his writing in some place like Lidice. |
