$
be in some far-distant age—and in
the meantime there waits for the
one who will take the time to read
it, this book which fulfills all the
purposes of fiction and also gives
a sketch of the way the human
race has come and whither it is
bound.
MASKS IN PAGEANT
CRITICAL REVIEW BY
J. R. KEITH
Is it true that all the servants of
the people, all the presidents of
the United States, all the political
bosses and party leaders were men
so stalwart, honest, conscientious and
outstanding that they might stand
forth as examples for all mankind?
William Allen White takes such an
attitude in his Masks in a Pageant,
and he succeeds in making his story
sound like an addition to the sen
sational section of the Sunday pap
er—except for the fact that it would
be unique to feature the virtues of
politicians in any such place. From
the very first page the book reads
like a wonderful fairy tale, a Uto
pia in which an uneducated and un
couth Tammany boss works faith
fully for future good of the organ
ization. The last pages are devoted
to one of the Two Young Princes of
Democracy, William Hale Thomp
son, who possessing many of the
characteristics of the early Tam
many bosses has worked faithfully
in Chicago for the future good of
something or other, the training of
better machine gunners for ex
ample.
The book is idealistic from cover
to cover, but idealistic also in the
sense of development of ideas. That
it is a newspaper story, written pri
marily for the news element we
cannot deny, and this fact makes
the book difficult of analysis. The
crux of the question lies in the pos
sibility of applying idealism to po
litics and still obtaining an intelli
gible result. We may say at first
glance that politics is too rotten to
have any idealistic elements in it,
but White makes it into a story that
is most convincing until one con
sciously begins sorting the facts
from the fiction. After that noth
ing is gained except that there is
the problem to be solved—is pol
itics, as time gives a perspective
to the deeds of past generations, be
coming a subject of idealism; is it
about to receive along with some
of our national heroes some of the
Whitewash of Past Events, or can
this age which prides itself upon its
intellectual development stand away
and view the masks as . they pass in
the pageant of politics and be able
to see and understand the features
of the true personalities that exist
ed behind the masks ?
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THE BA T T ALTON
Saturday night about twelve we
were awakened by the groaning of
rafters and other things that go to
hold up a building. Some Fish in a
burst of enthusiasm were trying to
take off a corner of P. G. to build
up a bigger and better bon-fire. Well,
I wouldn’t have minded but that
special corner happened to be our
room. So I discouraged them off
a few hundred yards where they
rather aimlessly happened upon the
trolley track out in the weeds. An
original idea burst upon one of the
crowd of the “felloes” and with due
energy and much laughing up the
sleeve they proceed to give the
tracks a lavishing bath of soap. It
all turned out about as usual, the
trolley lumbered along, slipped, hop
ped, skipped and jumped with the
patience of a long sufferent beast
of burden and the Fish soamed off
for other fields of pleasure.
Oh, yes, the fire, or rather pre
season bon-fire. I caught three colds
and double pneumonia going to that
thing. I do wish that a little more
warning would be given in order
to do so properly. My rumate got
off with my fire wardrobe before I
could find my glasses and by the
time I got there everyone else was
coming back.
But you know a fire in a town is
a funny thing. At night even more
so than in the daytime. The manner
of dress is something that would
cause a Paris dress designer to turn
green with envy. And the people,
usually a number of steroptyped
types that always attend these fires.
The next time you get up in the
night, put your socks on wrong
side out, rush down town with one
suspender trailing the ground, and
arrive all breathless and half?dress-
ed at the fire. You will find these
characters, generally already on the
ground.
There is for instance the hoarse
voiced man who acts as if the con
flagration was under his personal
supervision and who stands on an
ash barrel in the alley, wildly ges
ticulating, and howling suggestions
to the fire chief. He usually gets
knocked down or accidentally gets
the hose turned on him; and after
finding himself alive retreats with
as much dignity as possible to the
other side of the street where he
nurses his humiliation with sluring
remarks about the fire department.
And then there is the fiend (volun
teer fire boy) who is too weak to do
any manual labor and lets his wife
chop the fire-wood at home, that
will create havoc and desolation for
two blocks around a fire with an
axe. And there comes the man with
the ladder. His innermost soul is
stirred with yearnings for a ladder.
(Continued on Page 7)
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