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VOL. XVII, NO. 6
SATURDAY MORNING, JANUARY 10, 1914
FIVE CENTS
A TRIP TO THE FAERIES!
"Joe" Appel Paints Allegorical Pen
Picture with Pinehnrst as Motif
Awakening:, City-tired Cave-dweller
finds that Fancy, lloniance and
Poetry Are Vot Head
"FANCY is dead,"
sighed the city-tired
soul in a Christmas
story you may have read.
T " Fancy and romance
and Poetry are all dead !
We measure a man
nowadays by the money
he makes; a home by
the avenue it fronts on; a play by the
seats sold in advance ; and a book by its
place on the news-stand. And what do
we know of the art of living ! Art? Let
me tell you this : living is no longer an
Art. It is a chemical process."
But then Patrick is discovered on a
park bench. Wee and ragged Patrick,
with vagabond shoes on his feet, but
dancing eyes in his head and" the point
of view changes.
Patrick is " thravelin' " (in his mind)
to Ireland to visit the faeries.
He makes room on his bench for the
city-tired soul, and tries to take him
along to see "the primroses in the
woodsy places, the faery-thimbles the
faeries themselves."
Alas ! It is of no aviil. The trip ends
almost before it begins. The poor tired
out city cave-dweller has lost his im
agination and cannot follow. His mind
is tied fast to sky scrapers and trolley
cars, subways and taxicabs, cafes and
business every ugly thing city-born.
liut he seeks to escape ere it is too
late ; before he goes mad entirely.
"Come," he said to Patrick, "we'll
really go to Ireland on a real boat will
you go?"
"Sure an' I will but we must take
Grannie along she knows where be the
faery hills and the faery bushes. Ye
see," with deep humility, continues Pat
rick, "I've never been there really. It's
just the tales Grannie told."
They go Patrick, Grannie and the
city-tired soul. They reach Ireland.
On the crest of the Ben-Mor they seat
themselves, under a blackthorn to
await the faeries.
They wait and wait and wait.
The glow-worms in the bog grow
brighter. The tinkle of a bell is heard.
The night wind rustles the reeds. The
moths fly lazily by.
"My head swam," said the city-tired
soul " for a second I closed my eyes
only a second. I looked at the lights.
They were marching. The tinkling sound
came nearer. Up from the bog they
came -troop after troop of the Wee
People. Round after round they went,
making a faery ring. And then the
column broke into hundreds of whirling
eddies all this I saw I saw."
Suddenly came the crow of a cock. The
you and Patrick and I was the only
one with a pair of open eyes to see the
faeries dancing this night. Look. Here's
my proof the faeries' shadow I
clipped."
But Patrick had wriggled between the
two, waving a jack-knife above his head :
" 'Twas myself that clipped the faeries'
shadow," he said" but as for ye why,
ye an' Grannie snored the whole night
through."
l have been living in the
grouchy, growly, grunty old city
but here I am in Pinehurst
the Land of the Faeries where
Fancy, and Romance, and Poetry
are not dead; where we know
the art of living; where the city
tired soul may find peace, and
happiness, and health for now
and forevermore ! I have
awakened to find my dream
come true.
I MH
dawn-wind sprang up and rolled away
the mist. The three, Patrick and Gran
nie and the city-tired soul, lay alone on
Ben-Mor.
A long contented sigh comes from
Grannie; Patrick echoes it; and then
the three look hard at one another.
"Sure, t'was a pity I couldn't wake
the both o' ye," said Grannie. " 'Twas
the grandest sight I ever expect to see."
"Wake!" cried the city-tired soul.
" It was yourself, Grannie, that slept
I, too, have been asleep. I, too, have
said : " Romance is gone, and Poetry and
Fancy there is nothing left but men
slaving and sweating in the stoke-holes
of business all hours, all day, all days
scraping, sprawling, screeching along,
with scrooging, squinting, smirking
printers' devils tramping all over us.
I, too, have dreamed of the golf faer
ies, the pine forest, the amber sunshine,
the songs of birds, the bloom of flowers.
( Concluded on page nine)
COLONEL BOGEY'S OFF DAY
Three Pairs Are Six Holes to the Good
in Tin Whistle Club Handicap
Clark and Shannon, Abbe and Cheat
ham, Truesdell and Iludaon Finish
First, Bunched In Triple Tie ,
A TRIPLE tie gave zest
to Monday's four-ball,
best-ball, match play
Tin Whistle bogey
handicap for prizes pre
sented by Parker W.
Whittemore, E. A.
Johnston and the Club.
1 Six up was the score,
and Walter G. Clark of Woodland and
R. C. Shannon, II, of Brockport, F. C.
Abbe of Bethlehem and Rev. T. A.
Cheatham of Salisbury, W. E. Truesdell
of Fox Hills and C. B. Hudson of North
Fork were the leading pairs, f Scores :
Becker and Hunter, White and Rumsey,
5 up ; Dutton and Harmon, 4 up ; Towle
and Pottle, 2 up ; Hurd and Redfield, 1
up ; Boyd and Ormsbee, 1 up ; Hawthorne
and Lightbourn, 1 down; Wilson and
Johnston, 1 down; Morse and Waldron,
7 down.
Many Contributed Trophies
A special tourney of the Silver Foils,
a postponed kickers' handicap, will be
played today. In the list of those who
have contributed trophies for the sea
son's events are : Mrs. F. G. P. Barnes,
Miss Edith Barnett, Mrs. L. E. Beall,
Mrs. E. R. Behrend, Mrs. George F.
Berry, Mrs. Louis Brown, Miss Jennie
A. Brown, Mrs. Harry Burrage, Miss
Gwendolyn Cummings, Mrs. George C.
Dutton, Miss Louise B. Elkins, Mrs. C. K.
Foster, Mrs. W. C. Fownes, Jr., Mrs.
Arthur R. Gage, Mrs. J. P. Gardner, Miss
Myra B. nelmer, Mrs. J. R. Horner,
Miss Dorothy Hutchinson, Mrs. George
II. Jenks, Mrs. Herbert L. Jill son, Mrs.
W. J. Langenheim, Mrs. II. R. Mallinson,
Mrs. Alexander McGregor, Mrs. Guy
Metcalf, Mrs. George Munson, Mrs. T. R.
Palmer, Mrs. John B. Price, Miss Lucy
K. Priest, Mrs. M. D. Rae, Mrs. I. S.
Robeson, Mrs. M. Johnston Scammell,
Mrs. P. M. Shannon, Miss Hazel M. Shan
non, Mrs. Robert G. Shaw, Miss E. Marie
Sinclair, Mrs. Edward M. Taft, Mrs.
W. E. Truesdell, Mrs. C. II. Vanderbeck,
Mrs. C. S. Waterhouse, Mrs. Edward
Worth, Mr. and Mrs. Leonard Tufts and
Mrs. Donald J. Ross. IThe trophies,
on exhibition at The Carolina, are uni
versally admired. HA bogey handicap
is scheduled for Tuesday.