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ALLURING GIRL OF THE SUMMER TIME
fagS/i/H Only Thing in the United Stktes That Precedes *vjjrthe Constitution— An Appreciation of Her at HeT GARNET WARREN SHE is on the magazines and in therti; they are made for her and unto her. She rests, not in~" artistically, in hammocks; she wields the regal scepters of canoes; she provides material for more short stories than are given by all the races of . mankind. She even reads the stories, I believe. She decorates the beaches and sets off the streams. She glorifies piazzas. She is supreme in a land of sun ehine, spray, hammocks, Japanese lanterns, college boys, bathing costumes, moonlight picnics, purple distances and variegated vacation revelers. She is the Summer Girl, the Institution, the only thing in these United States which precedes the con 6titution. She is at the fresh springtime of her life, or the early summer, which is equally alluring, believe me. She is a dryad and a sea nymph in one. She .has the graces of wave and stream, meadow and wood, not to speak of the front piazza. She's a supernally at tractive, insidiously fascinating oasis in the desert of humanity. She's a glinting, smiling, ravishing, im mortal being placed in a mortal world. She's a mer ciful induction to the joys of promised paradise; an exquisitely fascinating, consciencelessly scheming charmer who has changed the very state of summer. For to her summer, alas, is not a season. It is a profession. Winter is gone and spring is vanished and the panting bosoms of embroidered hills arc full with the joy of growing things. But for her tho world is dark indeed. It is manless. Then does the Girl gird herself. She makes a quest more earnest, far more solemn than within the cities. The beaches and the dells and all romantic spots where love may list become her pilgrimages. There, net in hand, she waits! Htr net: Oh, an ey© or so (two if you are par ticular", gray, or blue, or violet, or deeply, tenderly brown. Then a tender mouth, soft and velvet aa breezes when the sun is dying; moist, too, as the sweet, rirst dews of the night. Let them be carmine if you like, or rose or pink, those lips. I don't care. It is best to be adaptable in such matters. But they must be soft, mind you, pink petaled soft, violet toft, silk soft,-to make a really admirable net. A complexion rosy like the dawn is an aid also, a rosiness that deeps and pales and dies away and surges at the sweet sounds of nature and men's voices; or hair that ripples and sheens in the sun and throws glints from brown or gold or glorious, flam ing red. v A dimpled shoulder, maybe (embellished appropri ately), a lithe young waist, a softly vibrant, laugh of the *weet throated ease of undertones. Even taken singly these things are good. Taken altogether you have a net which will make a. captive of a god. In deed, the goddesses keep their gods quite closely to Olympus these days. They know our summer girl, these goddesses. So very charming, yet withal experienced, whence comes the summer girl? It seems a comparatively short vhile since we became inducted to her,, since she became an art, so to say. To some extent Gibson » ' " ' ....\u25a0•. may have been responsible. He drew a type which '-.'.\u25a0 \u25a0 men (experts upon such matters, dear lady) consid ered beautiful. Thus woman's mission upon earth became involved. She commenced to live up to a double page. She also became consciously majestic, queenlike, the divinity of an adorable athleticism. When she didn't she became stout. Xo wonder Gib son started painting portraits. THEN SHE CAME . Beauty peopled the sands in those early days*. Summer at that time had not been organized, so to speak. It was not yet a profession. Men flocked when women trooped, sun browned and insouciant, upon the golden beach. And when men came But men deserve a paragraph to themselves. . For it was men who first created the possibilities of summer. Noah may have created an ark, and Joseph a taste for color in, dress. Jonah may really be responsible for the modern market , in whalebone (who can tell?), but it was man,- American; Man, who innocently originated summer. Eve saw him on the sands, a thousand Eves. Eve had been going to the beach for several summers. There wasn't a serpent or an apple in tKe place, though the hotels provided cantaloupe for. breakfast One morning Eve went to her glass with her accus ' - • "' •'\u25a0 '.->' \u25a0 \u25a0 '\u25a0• • , \ tomed certitude. Her ravished eyes regarded their mirrored twins with the satisfaction usual to Eve* She Deporates the Benches They touched upon her nose and dwelt upon her lips, 1 all too ready to be kissed, under thoroughly, respect able conditions. They turned to her fair skin, all rosy from the refreshments of the; night. Then sud denly she plunged forward.; .She made licr great dis covery. She recognized a^grace within herself vvhich ; she had never seen before,, the, spirit of joy, of per fect beauty, which only sun and sea arid air may give. She saw a. vision of palpitant splendor never- known, to her in the reflections, of; city mirrors. C/She" recog nized in-that instant that she '-was more than a"h*elp meet forman. She -was a joy and a radiant .jewel.' She saw the potentialities of her future: greatness. Then and there she. wedded; beauty to method, ; charm: to tender thought. She became thesummcr giri ; from that moment. Undeniably honored by. a ; skilled crea tor in the *" matter of proportions; she -strolled; upon • the sands, glorified by sun and sky and, bathing, dress, completely silk. She posed sheeriirig, /dripping in the waves,, another Diving /Venus. • She organized moon light, picnics and crooning; plantation harmonies un- : der the red dusks of Chinese lanterns. She (made . cryptic. confidences in the .muted' voice of love*, She gave summer, a constitution. ' ',}''"'• .•-.\u25a0:\u25a0 •" - : ::'\u25a0'[' Yes, she did these things— planned; them: in a mo ment—on that morning ;.\u25a0 when she .first ;- recognized \u25a0what a- setting; an ocean ; and ; a . sky might/ be ! ; The Summer Girl -was there. ; At : least \,that-- is 'the ; way : li prefer- to t think she arrived. Gibson has had enough;: publicity already. ;./ -_?*»""' " I speak, you takenie,; of /girls American., Of. course, \u25a0< there was; another, who ; had -her.; gracious 7 being prior even to Bunker, hiH/ -.Thc^rst of summer;. '-girls .was : Circe, only the moderns summer girl does not turn men into swine, merely into temporary gods. I companied with Circe in - my v youth— a. cycle or so ago. Evenings;and- evenings have I gone, lured by the /suavest sleeps of her predestined; laughter, to > shadowed arysting places by the soft Aegean. •-'. We strolled together by the brinks of waves (there were , no piers in those days) or lingered handsomely/by the;less frequented glades. There Circe laughed and whispered to me naive avowals which leave me specu lating yet. ' " " -- '\u0084'"\u25a0 -I ..-\u25a0:. She was graceful and giowing and young; she. was , fair and eloquently appealing. She had: the slope of blue veined breast now possessed' by Mary Garden -and a lithe, elastic turn; of Avaist at present the prop-, erty of Miss Kellerman. Gold was her hair and .... milky white her skin. \u25a0\u25a0/. Her eyes were deep, swimming wells of violet. They thrilled ahdtrembled on the verge of yours, but refused to take up any permanent residence. .: They would draw /back to velvet depths and tawny dusks of amber gold which made, you a brother to the ecstacies arid a temporary lodger in elysium boarding-houses. / Her voice ; was frankincense and silver, with depths, like shades in the rivers of dreams. Tones rich like the palaces of mermaids thrilled you as she laughed, and your soul quivered at the satined purple of her unexpected con tralto. She was joy and youth and siren voice in one. She. was anything: that was witching and /all things that were maddening. She was a Voaebud in the gar den breast of youth (she was only 500 or so), and the incense of her leaves sets me fluttering still, al though, I was a thousand last birthday. She was Circe— my Circe, the first of summer: girls— and 'you . will profit ; b*y her' confidences to me. ; They won't • matter now,:they happened some time ago.- AS TO FLIRTATIONS , . There is: the matter of. .flirtations, inseparable, seemingly, from 'the summer girl. Consider' these as you would the lily. An impression has been created that the summer girl is an airy thing, a thing of light- , ness and insouciance, who will flirt for an enchanting but an extremely limited period! a creature who brings to young Miner (say) airy visions of exquisite . vistas of wonderful skies (putting him' up in the air, in other words) for one delirious; unimaginable fort— .'• night. That, I say, is the popular impressjpn. ' I.dis like extremely to shatter the reputations of the mag- '\u25a0.-.\u25a0- ,\u25a0-. •, •'-\u25a0\u25a0\u25a0 \u25a0\u25a0\u25a0 \u25a0. ".-\u25a0\u25a0,-'—• • ,; -\u25a0 \u25a0 \u25a0 \u25a0. \u25a0,'\u25a0 \u25a0' .'.'\u25a0:- ,\u25a0 • ' 5.. . - : \u25a0- \u25a0 \u25a0\u25a0•• " « • azines, but, let us, before all. else, be truthful. The truth? />;\u25a0 ' :,\u25a0: ,\u25a0 . , ; . .\u25a0-;>; .:,.-.:__ " Well, the summer girl* does not flirt. She is in dead ly earnest She is in the golden fruitage of her. years. : Her dazzling, sun touched, wind kissed cheeks are at • thdr fullest splendor. ;•.*. Summer :- i is for her.: another nririity,'the Time, the' Place and the Man. Her name is' Bee, and it is her working time. So "you "see why, it is that— -—^ ',- -"/-. - "", ', \u0084 ' . ' _ . \u25a0'•- ' ","'." Young /.Miner will get no two weeks of irrespon sible deliriousness with her: Hej may! have<her for life if: you .will— and he will. He. may/take her home if -he :is \u25a0 content ; ta pay the price . of the bird: cage (S4OO down- and ; s2o' 'a; month, within two minutes ;of .the ; depot)r and a sufficiency of millet to 'keep her /chirping; but.if it is all the same to you, let this im/ pression' of improvidence, be banished.. ; , The silver glamour of the:moohon lakes, the, pres sure ,'of hands ?in ; the twilights arc'; gratifying but* the moon goes down and • the twilight .dies' and' the^darkicomes— and: what: is .the "matter v with . a credit ] a t Wanamaker's \u25a0\u25a0: and a-. patent washer; arid all the appliance s; of happiness ? i Nothing, madam 1 —nothing at all. ; ; ; _ „ ",',.. '\u25a0' :I : speculate j about 'these things^as; I walk— alone. It is ..under 'the maples 'where hammocks swings' TheY < scented: breaths of night : flowers "float upon the -air—^! < sweet sentimental fragrances/ / In" the distance ;there: are squaresof -light arid figures— close figures— -in ,tnV deeper shadows. Ifwalk very silently,;. and, as I said, 1 alone. \u25a0 Is i t a ; fancy/that j comes i from fal nearer^ ham mock? It: is very, soft, this = voice: It is unquestion ably; female. ;> It whisDer^'a'fra£rriient;with v a"c^ tenderness: "Then, if you really love me,* as you SAY you do"— — Of course I pass on. I would not listen ' fdr worlds. Besides, I know the lady. It is summer and the 'moon shines and one must commence to be practical at some time. ; * In the matter of such, interludes- there,- of course,' occurs the question of piazzas: I have seen pleasant piazzas, I am willing to admit— nooked by appropri ate groupings of chairs, intelligently barriered, if you must'have it so. I, have seen some;even with creep ing vines, a grateful screen which proved that the imagination of the hotel proprietor is not yet dead. I have seen these things, I say. But generally speak ing—though there may be exceptional cases, I grant you— l, do not, I -can not,\approve of piazzas from the standpoint of the summer girl. She has a natural , delicacy, in discussing such things, so upon this oc casion I speak for her./ Matrimonially conscienced, she loves the; shade. This I admit they provide; but shade is not all." -They must provide peace, seclusion, and this is where your piazza is weak. You are subject to the laughter of unworthy weekend vacationists, who are marplots, believe me. Now, it is well known that "bursts of laughter interrupt the spirit of the sacred rite of love. AyA v violet in a blacksmith's shop would be better placed. Then consider the complication of piazza music. No person loves music more than I. I know of noth ing more inspiring to the hope of "all improvements" • and a flat in Harlem than the glorious promise of an aria, say, by Renaud. But .there is music and music, dear lady; and if we are to be steeped in the purga tories of phonographs and barber shop quartets then, emphatically, it is time to get the cushions and go out to- gather blackberries. The very buds of sentiment are nipped in such piazzas, the shoots of blossoming affection chilled. N6, sister, the handicaps are too great. Piazzas will not do. \u25a0'".What, child! Is fall the season for black berries? George, hurry and get. the canoel IN A CANOE * Now, canoes, of course, are very different matters. '-'. These, indeed, may command respect. They are.po tentialities from which much may come, if you are sktfled with paddles— and with* eyes. There is some- [ thing conducive to avowals, particularly conducive to avowals, in the rhythmic movement of splendid arms '! \u25a0 kissed xby the sun and- framed by ; insinuating , graces of a becoming bathing dress/ Rings -with soli taires have come with less. Take the drowsing noon time; under the drooping v willows. . Your canoe lies upon the placid bank- side.' The sun glints through the green shades and touches your hair and your little nose. The very thing is! provocative to sole proprie torship! -j - .'*' ~'• '-J. "'. - \u25a0:. ; A n ° tllcr thing,-: if you- are thoroughly, undeniably satisfied upon the question of your own proportions —insist upon taking: thVpaddle.; Give him, with splen did unconsciousness; a chance to revel in the graceful lines of wai sts t ("and ,He will. -Look round occasionally. . Ca'tch f . him at it. Smile upon him with \u25a0 a. glintingi softness .which the sea and sky will framed The quick, side, shoulder glance ,was one of -Circe's habits in those other days of which I spoke. : . And'she knew, did \ Circe— knew not only the possibilities of eyes, their quick flashes and their; slow rests, but the' sweet' stringed- instruments? of voice. ' ; rYes", .she knew,- did Circe— the finest; artist of her sex. She knew "the "harmonies - which sank, and drenched. She knew -that' voices could thrill as well as: vivid = lips ;or violet^ eyes: , She caused trie heart to flutter 'with that voiced i \u25a0;: And this suggests the only criticism which I would make of. the otherwise admirable 'summer doe's v not \u25a0develop the exquisite ; possibilities of her voice^?' She knows the subtle tieVbf sight, but not of aound: I She does Jnot. attempt those ;>oft cadences .which: an arist "of, ;the first rank should always \u25a0 have: I merely mention ; this^ to : introduce the iniatterHof Tne ban Ifrancisco Sunday Call fashioned rand ineffective, but if is really not so.~ It is perhaps the greatest of the arts in the matter of procuring birdseed. I know. that golf has com* intcf fashion and tennis, but they are pitiable substitutes. Give me (mature as I am) an afternoon with Maud (Tennyson's) and a canoe and One with great browf eyes and tastes not too shockingly crude and yott may play tennis for a month. Sitting in the shades of sweet trees, the rippKng of tiny brooks is good. Plunge your arm into the -»?.ter and let him see it. Bareheaded— if your hair is what it should be— you should go far. I know a fascinating combination. You wish to know? A book of verses underneath a bough, a stream, a voice cadenced by mellow sweetness, an exception ally white blouse — never forget this — and a little foot peeping from somewhere, showing a tiny, a very tiny peep of something sheeny and silky and fine, just like a little antelope's. You see, the- fascination of the thing is the combination. There she is before you. The little voice, like silver bells, plays upon words of gold. There's a sort of concentric action about- the union. It's like getting "English" on a bil liard ball. Well, the waves of sound float to your ears. You are lying there and smoking cigarettes. She reads, looking- at you at little intervals. Uncon sciously, you would say, her charming arm dips Itself into the little stream and the ripples of the water mingle with the ripples of the voice. It is really very •effective, the whole thing. Try it some time. It'a better than tramping or tennis, and you don't get red. Though there is a skill not only in provoking dec larations but in pinning them to the board — pinning them till the cage is definitely contracted for. I. once knew a girl who possessed this provoking peculiarity. She could pin them, but she couldn't pocket them. When they proposed her bolt was fired. She became an anticlimax. She was not able to retain her tensity, her vividness, till the minister had congratulated her/ She did this six times in two sum mers, always failing when the prize was won, you might .say. She was a quick builder, but insecure. She finally captured a floor walker, slightly deaf, and is not unhappy. Let me place before you, however, as" the apex of summer surroundings the x sweet potentialities of moonlight. I know that thousands of poet* have suggested this, too; but that doesn't make the moon light any worse. She is the white deity of summer girls. She looks down upon you, certainly, but don't injnd her; she will be very discreet. She is a creature of a considerable e^erience and is used to protesta- * tiona. No, let her beams shine whifely on the laces - about yoti; look' out from the dark shadows of your supporting arm (being careful that the eyes have just the proper prominence); let" the -soft night breezes waft the little touch of, the Chypra (maybe) which you affect across the slightest intervening space; be attentive to the matter of the voice (low, but with a pregnant timbre — you take me?); hum softly little snatches of remembered airs; uncon sciously .shorten and widen the distance between you, shortening when you have gauged his eyes, and, the first touch of his hand may mean his surrender. # Get A-Plenty ffQQUIRE" POLK was the general adviser in political, legal" and other matters for all the * country round about his estate, and, being. the soul of hospitality, his table was never without one or more of the unprofitable "clients" who came to consult him. His wife had long since ceased to remonstrate, and she and the young people resigned themselves to get all the good possible in the way of amusing experiences* out of the affliction. One morning a long, lank mountaineer alighted from his "critter" just as the family was sitting down"^ to breakfast and promptly accepted the squire's in vitation to share the meal. When the dining room boy carried a plate heaped with "beaten" biscuits around the table the guest took one, regarded it admiringly for an instant, swal lowed it almost whole, then beckoned with a crooked finger to the boy. "Heah, boy," he said, "come back! Reckon I'll take three more of them laddies, I gits 'em so sildom!" Senator Root and His Jap Butler Senator Root of New York has an approved type of Japanese butler, who was for a long time a suc cessful foil and a puzzle to these who wished to get "ibto communication with the junior senator from the Empire state after 6 o'clock. At last on© of them caught the butler napping and everybody who has heard the story has enjoyed it. Wishing to communicate with Senator Root one evening:, the man who tells the story asked for bis telephone number. The boy answered. "Is Senator Root at home?" asked the man. '"Go see," answered the boy, and returning, "Sena tor Root at dinner. Call later." When the man called again upon the telephone the boy said again that he would "Go see," and brought "back the message that Senator Root was "not at home." '/But he asked me to call him up later,** said the man. * > "Go see," came over the wire. Then two mi^rc<3 later, "Senator Root is not home.'* "Did the senator tell you to say he was not at home?"*asked the man. . "Yes, he say he not home," was the candid answer, and the man gave it up. Senator Root is not an easy man to see. Dr.* Nic holas Murray Butler, president of Columbia univer sity, was found one day disconsolate in the marbls room of the senate by Vice President Sherman. • "Why, how do you do?" exclaimed the vice presi den.t. "Come in." He linked his arm in that of Doc tor Butler and soon had him in a confidential mood. The university president confided to the vica presi dent-that he had tried to send a card to Senator Hoot and learned that ordcri had been given that card 3 were not to be pressed upon the senator during the he was in the senate. "I'll fix that," said the vice president, and he sent in for Senator Root, who was apparently much ; pleased to see Doctor Butler. 'In truth it must be said that Senator Root does not like the side of politics which brings hi 3 constituents to him. He prefers. the calm and dignified position of i /."tribune of the people," as exemplified on the senate j floor. For a time no cards were sent to him, in com pliance with strict orders. Then* he weakened a little and . the v order .was modified. Callers are still, how ever,; largely sent to his office in the senate office J building, where they_ tell their business to his secre- \u25a0 tary.'or cool their heels, until the senate adjourns. Then they are riot always rewarded. Often the sena tor from New York slips out of a side door and the -caller learns that the senator "cun not ice them today.