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What to Read
By Jack Lait.
DEAREST LITTLE LOIS:
Long before 1931, when you
i bs 18 and when the let
ter of which this is the sixth will be ;
opened for you, your tastes in dook
will have developed. Into the struc
ture of a normal girl goes a reading
trait, which is Integral and as indica
tive as a strain of character. What
one reads influences in a substantial
measure what one thinks, how one
acts and what one does.
.I'do not know what books will
have been written between now and
that time. But mere surciy
be so many that will be so impor
tant that the vital classics for which
I am to urge your predilection here
will have passed beyond an appeal to
your time and patience.
' Among the little heritages which
1 shall leave will be my library, a
bumble and modest collection, but
well loved by me to the last leaf.
You will find there all the books of
which 1 now make mention.
There are several hundred vol
umes now. I hope that there will
be several thousand by then, for
books are like flowers, good for
the atmosphere they exhale, even
if nnc never looks at them. You
will find several of my own writing
Read them with charity they were
written with more hope than confi
dence.
"
First of all. I recommend to you
the greatest writer, philosopher and
disciple of gladness that this conti
nent has known, Mark Twain.
"Tom Sawyer" and "Huckleberry
Finn" are primarily boys' books. In
extreme youth they are entirely
boys books. .But later, when deeper
sight comes, they are anyone's books.
Thev will amuse you. thev will
make you chuckle, they will show
you a vein of life which will have
cassed awav before your time. Please
read them both.
Then you may read "A Gilded
Age," an exciting story around the
most faithful picture of a phase of
American history that 1 know.
This will graduate you to "Pud
din'head Wilson," in my judgment
the great American novel, despite all
Its constructional liberties.
And last, when you have spent
few odd hours reading the other
Twain books and stories, his two vol
umes on "Memoirs of Joan of Arc,"
the only human and digestible ac
count 1 know of this martyred saint
the handmaiden of a miracle.
You will find my set of Balzac
nearly intact. By your time
vSr
By GEORCENE FAULKNER.
T WAS a sultry summer
evening ana tne grass
was so wet after the
heavy rain of the after
noon that all the chil
dren gathered in a group
upon the porch.
"See those bright
lights twinkling through the garden," said
small John. "They look like tiny stars
which have fallen down in the grass."
"Whv. vou little goosey! Don't you
know what they are?" laughed Jane. "They
are fireflies."
What do you mean, fireflies?" asked
John.
"I will catch one and show it to you,"
said big brother Jim, and soon he was runr
ning about through the garaen regaraiess
of the wet grass. At last he caught a tiny
firefly and brought it up on the porcn ana
turned a glass over it, while the excitea
children crowded about to watch it.
"Why, it is only a little beetle!" said
small John in disgust.
"Yes, but watch it. Watch it move its
wings," said Jim. "See the tiny light."
"It does not look so bright here as it did
down in the grass," said Jane.
"No, because it is darker down there,
and so the light shows more clearly," said
Jim.
"Where do the fireflies get their light?"
asked John.
"Under their wings," answered Jane.
"Yes, but what makes it shine, father?"
questioned John.
"That is the wonderful thing about the
firefly," said the children's father. "This
small beetle Is created that it can produce
this phosphorescent light from the fatty
cells in its own body, and to these ' cells
run many tiny tubes which carry oxygen
from the outside air, which is necessary for
the light. The strangest thing is that this
beetle can produce the light without gen
erating any heat, and that is more than we
can do, for when man produces light by gas
or electricity, it gives out heat, but with
this bettle all of the energy that it uses goes
thi(to make light, and none of it is wasted in
master of story will perhaps have l1"' ' "fc" T r'Cl ""i ril
outlived a popular fallacy that he is rc' "c,cl 0,e l"
"Now, watch the firely. He does not
flash his light all the time as he flies, but
Ml I T 1
not for grids to read. The stories
which gave rise to this fantastic
slander 1 have thrown away. They
were not Balzac; they were a collec
tion of anecdotes of his time which
he compiled, and they were irrever
ent, Indelicate and unclean. But the
others are the masterpieces of the
world's foremost creator of drama
and romance. Read them all. It will
take you a year. I almost envy you
that year.
Then you may take up the slen
der green books in the right-hand
corner of the upper shelf. They are
the stories and novels of Rudyard
Kipling. Read, first of all, "The Light
. That Failed," the finest story written
in my day.
Then turn to A. Conan Doyle and
walk beside the fussy, phlegmatic lit
tle Dr. Watson and see the incredible
deeds of the inexhaustible, cat-lived
Sherlock. He will be old enough to
be new. by then; he will not be musty,
I am sure, even lS years from now,
with all the commonplaces which in
IS years become such, whereas they
. had been mysteries and dreams so
briefly before.
Just think of Jules Verne's books
nis maa nights nave an come more
than true. His conception of circ
ling the world jn 60 days is absurd
now, when they do it in 30; his un
dersea leagues are being done by
mousanas ot suDmarines.
out science itseit cannot ever
make Sherlock Holmes a back num
ber. He is too wonderful, too im
possible.
Three books by America's most
brilliant employer of phrase and fir
ure you will find credited to Vance
Thompson, my friend, "Poets of
France" will carry you away to a
weird, sweet, naughty land which will
npt be when you shall have grown
Montmartre and the retreats of the
lesser lights of that current literature
which has always endured but sur
vived In France, and which never had
a parallel in America.
His other two works in our pos
session are well worth reading as
' supreme examples of what a genius
can extract from dry and unpromis
ing subjects like diet and temperance.
And now you arrive at the holiday
in bookland.
Beginning from the left of the
second shelf from the topmost you
.. will see a row not nearly long
enough of stories. Your daddy has
read them each many times. Some
folks have flattered hftn with a charge
of imitating them. If he did it was
because he imbibed the irresistible
spirit of them, not because he sought
.to purloin their precious thoughts
. or mimic their inimitable style
They are the works of O. Henry,
a man who died too young and left
us only snatches of his soul's in-
t spirations.
Of all that the past gives to Us
children I can think of no one thing
that, is i more precious bequest than
- the artworks of O. Henry, the man
who filched a title which had seemed
secure upon the brow of De Maupas
sant, gently slid it off and took it with
J him to a premature grave to crown
with it an adorable memory of a man
with a heart.
'- The books that I recommend to
; you have been among my favorites
My daughter should love them all'
. And if they give you half the pleasure
; that they have afforded me, I shall be
' happy. And as you read them, re-
member that I loved them.
, . ; - Affectionately.
' DADDY.
Gopyrljhtrl9l6, by J. Keeley.)
: , , . V
only at intervals. He seems to store up his
power and' then suddenly to give it out.
"They say that in the warmer countries
these flying beetles are much larger and
they show a much brighter light. Trav
elers tell how the tropical forest m the
West Indies and South America and the
Philippines are at times brightly lighted
by these flashing lights. In fact, they are
so bright that sometimes the men fasten
the fireflies on to their shoes to light the
way through the forest, and sometimes the
natives make a paper lantern and put a
n,imhr nf ih fireflies inside to srive them
a light. They also tell us that some birds
use them to light their nests
"How funny! laughed John. "Think
of a bird having a firefly for the electric
light in its home. Please tell us some
more, father."
"Well, they say that some people use
them as a light in the home, for some of
the natives catch a number of the fireflies
and put them under glass and use them for
light."
"It must give a flickering light to read
by," said Jim.
"Do you know," said the children's
mother, "1 read one time that the Spanish
ladies like to wrap these fireflies in gauze
and fasten them in their hair, and then they
would wear them as ornaments to court
balls?"
"I should think that would look very
pretty," said Jane.
"Sometimes the ladies decorate their
dresses with these fireflies and wear them
in place of gleaming gems," said the moth
er, "and sometimes they even fasten them
on their slippers to serve as bright buckles,
and to sparkle as they dance to and fro."
"Wouldn't it be funny to wear fireflies
to a ball?" laughed John, "but that is just
like the ladies; they always love jewelry."
"Never laugh at the ladies, John," said
the father. "Some men are very fond of
jewels, also. Shall I tell you a story that
an old sailor told me? He said that he
heard it when he was over in the Philippine
Islands."
"Oh, do, father; please do!" shouted all
the children, as they crowded about their
father.
"WeJl, once upon a time, long, long ago,
there lived a king who had great riches. He
was very fond of jewels, and all of his peo
ple gave him presents of precious stones'.
His crown was blazing with diamonds and
rubies and sapphires and emeralds. Around
his neck he wore a long rope of priceless
pearls and his fingers were covered with
rings.
"But his favorite ring was a small piece
of jade cut like a beetle. It had been
brought to him from faraway Egypt, and
it was called a 'sacred scarab.' They told
the king that when he wore this ring he
would always have good health, for it would
protect him from harm. So the king loved
this ring the best of all of his Jewels, and
he wore it all the time.
"But one day he lost his precious" ring.
He could not remember anything about it,
but he knew that he had it on his finger
just before he took his nap.
" 'Let me see,' he said. '1 took it from
my finger because my hand was warm and
tired and I went to sleep out in the garden.
It might have rolled away and fallen into
the lake."
" 'Very well,' said the courtiers, 'we will
look in the lake,' and soon they were drag
ging in the seaweed in the small lake, but
no ring could they find.
" 'Maybe a fish has swallowed it!'
moaned the king.
"So they brought nets and caught all
the fish in the lake, and the cook opened
each fish, but no ring could they find.
"The king became so worried that he
fretted himself into a fever. 'I know now
that harm will come to me,', he groaned.
Then he made a promise: 'Whoever finds
my sacred beetle shall have any gift that
he desires.' When the courtiers heard that
they became more eager than ever. They
went down on their hands and knees and
crawled all over the garden, looking in the
ring could they
grass and flowers, but no
find.
" 'Possibly when you went to sleep, your
majesty, a bird flew down and plucked it
from your lap and carried it to its nest,'
said one of the courtiers.
"Then the king sat down on the bench
and said: 'I laid down right here and i
tookthe ring from my finger just before I
went to sleep. I thought that I put it in a
safe place, but where could it have gone!
Maybe you are right and a bird has taken
it. Go search the birds' nests!'
"Soon all the courtiers were climbing in
the trees and standing on tall ladders and
searching in the bushes, and although they
frightened many birds from their nesls
they did not find the ring.
"The king was left all alone, seated on
the garden bench, and he was gioaning and
moaning over his bad luck when suddenly
he heard a buzzing sound.
" 'Kuzz-zz, Zumm-inm, Kuzz-zz-min-mm,
sang a noisy little beetle as it buzzed about
the king's head. 'Kuzz-zz, Zumm-mm,
Zumm-mm.'
"The king tried to brush the beetle
aside. 'Even the bugs and beetles annoy
me now that I have lost my sacred stone,'
he cried.
" 'Kuzz-zumm - mm. Kuzz - zumm - mm,
Kuzz-zumm - mm - mm :' said the beetle,
louder and louder, as it brushed against the
king's hand.
"The king grew angry and slapped at
the beetle, but it flew buzzing about his
ears.
" 'Kuzz-zztjmm! Kuzz-zunim-mm! Kuzz-
zumm-mm-nimt '
Come-mm! Come-mm-mm! Come-mm-mm!
Oh, King! Oh, King-ng-ng! Oh, King-ng-ng:
Listen to the song I sing-ng-g.
Do not rage and scold and frown.
But gaze upon vour golden crown;
The lost beetle you will find
If my song you will but mind.
Kuzz-um-um-zee! Kubb-um-zee
Look and seel Look and see-ee-ee!
"The king snatched off his golden crown
Sacred beetle nd, sure enough, there on the top orna
ment hung his precious ring.
shall have "He called all of his courtieis to him and
said: '1 promised to give anything that was
any gift that desired to the one who found my ring.
tou nave tanea in your searcn, nut a tiny
beetle has helped me, and so now I must
reward him, for he has found my ring.
When I stretched out to take my nap I re
moved my crown and placed it by my side,
and then I hung the ring upon it for safe
keeping. But when 1 awoke I put the
crown upon my head and I forgot the ring.
This tiny beetle has brighter eyes than a:iy
of you and he saw my ring and buzzed the
secret to me.'
ness. The gift 1 desire, if It please your
gracious majesty, is this: Will you please
let me and all of my family carry lanterns
under our wings? Fr sometimes when we
go out after dark to visit our friends we
lose our way. You are grateful because I
found your lost beetle; please help me so
that I may never be lost again.'
" 'Little winged one, you shall have
your wish,' said the king, 'and I will give
you the lanterns to carry.' Then the king
waved his golden wand over the beetle .
three times, and he said: 'Henceforth yon
and all your family shall flash forth bright
lights from under your wings.'
"And so the people in the Philippines
still tell this old. tale when they see the
fireflies flashing their little lights."
"Oh, thank you, father," said all the
children in chorus.
"Now, do let this little beetle fly home,
Jim,'' said Jane.
So Jim lifted the glass and the firefly
flew back to join its friends in the garden.
"It is time that my small fireflies fly up
to bed," said the mothers
"Just think, those little beetles can do
something that we cannot do. They can
give light and no heat," said John.
"Whoever
finds my
he destresl"
His Need
For three successive nights Newpop had
walked the floor with the baby. On the
fourth night he became desperate and
bought a bottle of soothing syrup.
"Why, James." exclaimed the wife
when she saw the bottle, "what did you
buy that for? Don't you know it is very
dangerous to give a child anything like
that?"
"Don't worry," was her husband's re
ply. "I'm going to take it myself."
" 'Now, my little friend,' said the king
as he stretched forth Lis hand, 'what re
ward can I give yjpu?'
"The tiny beetle alighted upon the ring
and rested upon the scarab shaped like
himself. 'He was a lost beetle,' he mur
mured softly. 'I am sorry tor lost beetles,
for I sometimes get lost myself in the dark-
As Good as New
Mrs. Brindle Now, Mary, 1 want you to
be careful. This is some very old tablj
linen been in the family for over 200
years, and "
Mary Ah. sure, ma'am, you needn't
worry, I won't tell a sOul, and it looks as
good as new, anyway.
Funny and Satisfying
"Your clerks seem to be in a cood hu
mor," remarked the friend of a city mer
chant. "Yes," replied the merchant. "My wife
has just been in and it tickles them to death
to see somebody order me about."
r' -
1
PICTURE WIZARDRY
ttqeav Ptcrma atmtanrwa
k AU RIOfTS RE3DN16
By CHARLES A.1
OGDEN
The Mohammedan a.nd the Buddhist
r
Here
we
see a
worshipful
Mohammedan
on his
knees,
prostratiid
himself-,
in
accordance
with
his
religious
customs.
we
see
an
Oriental
worshiper
paying
homage
to
Buddha.
Customers
of this
depztrbnent
ot
vjeinJness
may jive
theueer
animal to
the ritt
any name
they choose.
We cant
think cf a
name
ut Who Wants to Play With ev. Playful Bull?
i I
SO
we are
going
to add
a few
more
lines
to
the
picture
this
1 way.
wec