THE EVENING FAD

Evening Star, Issue 16087, 12 April 1916, Page 8

THE EVENING FAD

Time was that when my day was done The evening was a time for rest. I puffed my pipe and watched the sun In glory sinking in the west. I knew contentment that was iea! Not longer than two years ago But now when finished is the meal She drags me to a picture show. No more the splendid hour of peace That once I knew I now possess; When all my daily struggles cease’ There is no balm of happiness. Refreshing, cool, to soothe my brow. No restful hour that I may know,’ For when we’ve finished dinner now She drt me to a picture show. Each evening I must- sit and see The widow’s little baby die; Must gaze on acts of villainy; The soldier put to death a spy; A dam destroyed by dynamite. Which brings from her a frightened “Oh! ’ And every- other dreadful sight That constitutes a picture show. I’ve gazed on Farnum’s curly locks Until I wished that he was bald; I’ve seen the self-same pile of rocks _ By every mountain title called. I’ve seen him lick a dozen men In combat with a single blow; But after supper, once again, She drags me to a picture show. Oh, for the nights that l oe.ee knew Before the picture craze began ; When once his daily tasks were through There was no place to take a man. Then I could sit in real delight. And watch the people come and go; And now—l’ll bet again to-night She’ll drag me to a picture show. —Edgar A. Gueot, in ‘Detroit Free Press.*