AS I gaze out of the windows of my editorial sanctum this morning I can see right past the General Hospital, and far beyond the various bootleggers’ hangouts—even farther than the Parliament buildings in Queen’s Park. I can see Boundary Bay, on the B. C. coast; Seal Rock and Golden Gate Harbor, San Francisco; the plank trestle sidewalks of courageous, pioneer Prince Rupert; the municipal golf course in Calgary, where Charlie Hayden and C. O. Smith, of the Herald, undoubtedly will try to make an indifferent tennis player into a much worse golfer; the rumpled hair of the West’s most potent and individualistic editor, J. W. Dafoe; and a score of other places and faces, new and old.
NEW ERA OF MERGERS FOR CANADIAN BUSINESS FINDS PUBLIC LESS OPPOSED
J. HERBERT HODGINS
HAVE we entered upon another era of business mergers? It begins to look like it. Not a week passes lately but the newspapers hint at some possible consolidation of business enterprise. Last year we experienced three banking mergers which resulted in the loss of separate identity of three long established banking concerns with a combined capital and reserve exceeding thirteen million dollars.
LOW and sweet and infinitely beguiling with the stridencies of lusty young voices muted by distance, the familiar old air drifted up from the campus to where Larry Weston had achieved the solitude he sought. They were singing “Varsity Forever” and though the words were indistinguishable to his ear, his mind supplied them with subconscious precision: the swan song of the seniors, sung with their caps in their hands, their inspired young faces lifted to the soft June stars.
CAPTAIN JACOBSON threw himself into his capacious armchair, put his feet on a hassock, removed his glass eye and placing it in his pocket, leaned his head back against the crocheted antimacassar. The fire in the great heater was roaring; a bed of coals gleamed in the wide-open draught.
STEWART OWEN swept the rotunda of the King James with his luminous, black eyes. The place buzzed like a beehive, the open space of the lounge above echoing back a heavy drone of amalgamated voices, for it was race week, and it had brought an influx of sporting gentlemen.
IN THE summer of 1907, there drifted into Montreal a piece of flotsam, swept thither by the waves of chance. The sea of life had cast it there, high and dry, with not a friend, nor a definite purpose. But being human, and being possessed of life, it dared to hope.
And Uncle Hopalong told the Story of The Bunny Bungalows
George W. Davey
The Foxes once decided that As Rabbit-Pie was very rare, They’d have to make some clever plan The little Bunnikins to snare. And Mr. Brown-Fox, sly old soul, At last devised a clever plan, Said he,"We'll try my little scheme And catch some Bunnies if we can.
THEY say Romance is dead as King Arthur, the Crusades and the dodo, but I can show romance in the making, all colored with the afterglow of Bret Harte days, spiced with Fenimore Cooper, and filled with memories of the golden Klondike, yet keeping one spellbound with a difference all its own, right in the heart of British Columbia.
MY NEIGHBOR has broken out into golf! My family and I were having breakfast the other morning when “crash” went our casement window. A shiny golf ball sped through the room and we all “ducked” with more speed than ceremony. I looked out upon the sunshine spaces of my neighbor’s garden.
WHICH way out of our railway difficulties? (1) Shall we sell the Canadian National to the Canadian Pacific Railway? (2) Buy the C.P.R. (expropriate it, as it were!) and amalgamate it in one government-owned line? (3) Co-operate and co-ordinate drastically, and eliminate the tens of millions of dollars worth of annual waste?
GABRIEL SAMARA, dictator of Russia, had sent for her, and the Princess Catherine, some time known as Catherine Borans, typist of the stenographic Bureau of the Hotel Weltmore in New York, but, ever since Samara’s visit to New York, more than a year before, his secretary, was obeying his summons.
He’s Arrived—We knew of a cashier who wished to be one of the 400 and now he is No. 387—Toronto Mail and Empire. Another Little Job for the —! Man’s inhumanity to man keeps the coroner busy examining used stomachs. Efficient Grinders—It is doubtful if the mills of the gods grind any finer than the tax mills.—Vancouver Province.
U. S. Author Believes a Large Proportion of Women Do Not Appreciate Franchise.
KATHERINE F. GEROULD
DO THE women of this continent appreciate the privilege of voting? And if they do, is it a fact that a large percentage of the intelligent women “do not vote at all or vote under protest and not very carefully?” The latter opinion is that of Katherine Fullerton Gerould, author of “Modes and Morals,” and of “Conquistador.”
Sixteen Vital Questions Put Up To Theological Professors of New England College.
RELIGION must find reasonable answers for inquiring youth, and it must take an intelligent interest in the questions which youth is now propounding, suggests The Outlook in , an editorial referring to a list of sixteen queries drawn up by a class at Amherst College, Massachussetts.
HOW would a man enjoy going around without a cent in his pocket? How would he like to have to beg a quarter when he needed a shave or a hair-cut? How would he feel when he did not have money with which to buy a package of cigarettes, or tip a taxi driver, or do any of the thousand and one things requiring cash, which come up in the ordinary course of events?
ONE of the greatest obstacles to the enjoyment of travel is fear. The traveler may not recognize her enemy by this name. She may say she is of a highly nervous temperament. Nevertheless it stands in her pathway, making her worry over the possibilities of fog, collision, fire, panic, appendicitis, missing connections or not meeting the right people.
Question — G. A. M., Saskatchewan: Kindly give me some information on the subject, “Will Canada be benefited by Immigration from Europe,” letting me have views both for and against. This is for a club paper. Answer—As your request only reached me three days before the date of your paper, it was impossible to send you the information in time.
FEW of us know that the progress of art has always been from the East. With our centuries of handicraft and art behind us it is hard to realize that when our European ancestors were primitive peoples the Oriental countries had achieved a culture and expression in art that is still a wonder in its variety, imagination and technique.
Flapper Days—“Phyllis dances with abandon.” “She should wear more.”—Dartmouth Jack o’Lantern. Playing Safe—Gertrude: “Are you married?” Theodore: “I am sorry to say I am not, thank goodness!”—Saskatoon Phoenix. And So It Was—“Ho, Squire,” cried Sir Lancelot, “bring me a can opener.