AN EDITOR'S WOES. a To paraphrase the good old song. Taking one consideration with another, an editor's lot is not a happy one. Here is a part of a letter which has found its way into the GAZETTE sanctum : "It appears to constant reader as though the moral tone of THE GAZETTE is not quite what is used to be. Most assuredly no one can do more to cleanse, purify and uplift, mentally, morally and spiritually as well as physically, than the physician, the trained nurse and the Medical Magazine." These observations certainly startled us, as though we had received a blow. Faults we have, both as Physician and as Editor. Our faults as physician are not always discoverable; old Diogenes realized that much about doctors many centuries ago when he declared that practitioners of medicine are fortunate men-in that their successes (their cures) are obvious, whilst their failures are hid beneath the ground. But our editorial faults are uncoverable, for they are patent on the printed page. And yet among our editorial faults we never realized our lack of moral tone. That shows how even editors do not live up to the Socratic dictum : Know thyself. In fact we had considered ourselves rather strong in the moral and even in the spiritual way-to the extent indeed that friends have feared we were suffering from a conscience working overtime, as from a fever and have advised us to take something for it-something by way of a counter-irritant: To take dinner in a cab aret; or dance the tango; or do like the man who most recklessly drank two bottles of ginger ale and got "real devilish" in consequence. Naturally, then, the accusation gave us a sleepless night. And next morning we sent post haste to our most well-intentioned correspondent, asking for specifications. In what particular or particulars had we been lacking in moral tone? And when had the lack of moral tone in THE GAZETTE been observed was this during our incumbency, since August of 1913, or was it possibly previous to our incumbency? But we have received no answer to our anxious inquiries, although we were very careful to give the assurance that the information would be held confidential. Seriously, however, we thank our correspondent for the criticism. And we beg to assure all our readers that we would be grateful for all such interest in THE GAZETTE. We are anxious to make this a perfect Journal of Personal and Public Health. That end we, being but human, shall probably not achieve; for 'tis not in mortals to attain perfection. But all the same this consideration is not going to prevent our constant striving. If, by chance, bouquets are handed us in these columns, we shall be grateful for them; but much more grateful shall we be for any adverse criticism that is offered us with helpful and chastening intent. The Editor of THE GAZETTE: Please give me plainer directions for making cold water coffee as described in your September issue. We have no Austrian coffee biggin nor percolator. [The department stores in all the great cities have for sale porcelain percolators which will answer admirably the purposes set forth in the article on Cold Water Coffee Infusion, to which our subscriber refers. If such percolators are not to be found in all American communities, one's dealer can procure them or they can be got by mail order.] The Editor of THE GAZETTE: Publication in the September GAZETTE of my article on Homograde Thermometer greatly pleases I know of no other periodical in which I would prefer to have it appear-F. E. ASPINWALL, M.D. me. HISTORY, PHILOSOPHY, FICTION, HUMOR, SATIRE, POETRY. LEISURE HOUR WAS FOUNDED IN THE BELIEF THAT THE PHYSICIAN IS BUT HUMAN; THAT HE LOVES THE BEAUTIFUL IN THOUGHT AND SENTIMENT AS EXPRESSED IN LITERATURE, AND THAT HE IS AT TIMES SURFEITED WITH TECHNICAL MATTER. SHORT, CRISP CONTRIBUTIONS ON ANY OF THE SUBJECTS NAMED IN THE SUB-HEADING ARE INVITED TO THIS DEPARTMENT. on. THE PRACTICAL OPTIMIST. There are all sorts of definitions, there's every kind of definition of the optimist-the man who sees an orange in a lemon, and so And there is not a little cant in some of these definitions. Most human progress has been made through the efforts of men in whose temperaments there has been a judicious blend of the optimist and the kicker. And if it comes to that a frank, out and out, pessimist, who works and hopes for better things to come, is a nobler specimen than your blind and supine optimist. Optimism is the ideal state so long as you retain a reasonable and wholesome amount of dissatisfaction, so long as you do not neglect the eternal duty to fight, and fight hard and ever, against the wrongs which still hurt mankind and civilization. The right kind of man, in short, is your practical optimist; and when such an optimist is, all the time he is maintaining such a temperament, grievously suffering physical ills, it appears to us high Olympus has been scaled. It is to that kind of an optimist we here introduce the reader. Mr. Charles Cristadoro is indeed already well known to the readers of THE GAZETTE, by reason of the superb articles by him which have, from time to time, appeared in our columns. One of these articles appears in this issue. And between the lines one easily can get the spirit and, if need be, the lesson, of practical optimism. Mr. Cristadoro has stated the fundamental principles of this club to be as follows: "There is a rational optimism which even the most inveterate pessimists-'knockers,' colloquially speaking-should be glad to en courage, based on the belief that the world is growing better and that evil is retreating before the progress of science, intelligence and justice. An optimism which works and corrects, which studies history and human nature and which is prepared to demonstrate to any doubters that life is and always has been worth living and seeks to inspire men with enthusiasm and courage. Progress is not a delusion, but a fact. The world is growing better every day.” When he set down these principles, now more than a year ago, Mr. Cristadoro wrote that his club was in good working order, although, so far, with but a single individual member, who is the president, vice-president, treasurer, secretary and board of directors. The club lives in hopes. that the membership may be increased. No initiation fees or physical gymnastics and annual dues are required and no hold-up quets are given. Mr. Cristadoro at that time urged every citizen of San Diego to join, even the school children to become active members, to be optimistic, day by day. "The motto of the Point Loma Optimist Club is, What can you do? We don't care much to hear what you have done or may do in the future for San Diego, some day, but what can you do for San Diego now, to-day, and what can you do and keep on doing for the good of San Diego on each and every one of its 365 sunshiny, balmy days in the year. The point here is, wouldn't it be a good idea for every reader of Mr. Cristadoro's superb philosophy to substitute for San Diego, the name of his own home hamlet, or town, or burg? In exemplification of practical optimism we make here some excerpts from Mr. Cristadoro's writings-real literature: "Do you remember seeing a reprint of a painting by Kraus, I think, of an old and kindly village cobbler carefully studying a pair of 'worn to a frazzle' shoes, the owner looking on with equal concern? To apply the simile: The only thing I can honestly plead guilty of is schooling myself into a constant condition of occupation when conditions improved to permit of it. And that the cause was a sensible one and that because of the consequent extrospection I mended. to a certain extent, and was able to remain on this earth and keep going. In other words I lived along from day to day because I managed to live out of myself. Injecting a little good humor and optimism into the situation I made matters just a little more pleasant for those around me and incidentally, for myself. So that, really, is all there is to it. Beyond that I cannot see anything worthy of notice, either along the lines of 'pointing a moral or adorning a tale.' There isn't an appreciative soul who enters my sun and wind-modified lath-house but who, as it were, envies me despite all my trials and tribulations. I wish every man who wielded a pen could have such a retreat. The breathing, exhalation of the blooms and the surrounding bird chorus are the only 'distractions,' if they can be so called instead of inspirations. So, could you jump into your (prospective) 500 miles-per-hour aeroplane and point it towards the Mexican border and stop just short of it at Pt. Loma, this would be the spot. Could I do so, I would like to share it with all. As it is I am inclined to think that it must be enlarged, for, when a dozen people crowd in at a time it looks like a case of standing room next year, if all the friends who promise to come do come. More and more come as it is, the case of a 'trail in the wilderness.' 99 44/100 per cent. strangers. "Last Saturday we had the usual anniversary of June 6, 1910 when they rolled me off alive and not dead from the operating table. "My life is a peculiar one. I spend the day in an invalid's chair, in a lath-house in the garden. At 6 p. m. I go to my bed more or less exhausted, and am asleep at 7 p. m. My sleep is out' at 1 a. m. when I sit up in bed and write until 7 a. m. Then nursing, and again in the lath-house at 8 a. m. and breakfast, mail at 8:30 and busy for the rest of the day. Rather long hours, but keeping busy every moment prevents, an invalid's worst enemy, introspection. "The Doctor says I am able to stand a boat trip to San Francisco, and that it will do me good! Think of what that means to me after nearly ten years in an invalid's chair! To see a 'movie picture show' and a score of other won-der-ful sights! Like a child going to the circus!! "I would like to recite many most interesting experiences, e.g.: Little Mexican school children singing, and 'saluting the flag.' And the papers full of war talk against Mexico. Their fathers are across into our line, industriously at work under our flag. Straight haired, dusky faced, luminous-eyed children and very intelligent looking. No peonage for these boys when they grow up. They may go back to Mexico and lead along bettering ways. Curious how intently they watched me and listened to me talk. And quick to respond to any amusing sallies I might make. "High school at National City (5 miles from San Diego), built in mission style. cloisters, tiles, etc., etc., but inside modern in every way, an up-to-the-minute school. The studied attention given my talk pleases me very much indeed-and they insist on 'more' when I show an inclination to quit. "The superintendent has 450 schools in the county and he has asked me for a few little essays or stories, 200 words each, to pass through the schools. I lightly treat commonplace things, natural history, hygiene, food, etc., on an understandable, yet interesting plane, my object being to excite interest and make the children hunt up for more information in the encyclopedia-and write compositions on my essays. A MODERN LULLABY. (New York Evening Sun) ROCK-A-BYE, baby, upon the bough, You get your milk from a certified cow! Before your eugenic young parents were wed They had decided how you should be fed. Hush-a-bye, baby, on the tree-top, If grandmother trots you, you tell her to stop. Shun the trot-horse that your grandmother rides It will work harm to your iittle insides. Mamma's scientific-she knows all the laws She kisses her darling through carbolized gauze. Rock-a-bye baby; don't wriggle and squirm; Nothing is near you that looks like a germ "LINES UPON READING A GARDEN ANNUAL" by Mildred Howells, in Scribner's: WHAT do I care if snows drift deep And chill the north wind blows, When, in the sheltered room I keep, A glorious garden grows? Free-flowering Ramblers climb and cling Immune from Bug and Blight, HINTS FOR BOYS. (To do what they want to when they want to do it) TACT. When your father has a headache you should always bang the door; If your mother's feeling giddy you should stamp upon the floor; Yell and whistle as you run-it is really ripping fun, And discourages your elders when they tend to be a bore. ON GETTING UP. When the matutinal knock Turn and take another doze. DEPORTMENT. How provoking is the mat Lying by the entrance door! Mud abounds, but what of that? Carpets cover every floor. Walk exactly where you please (Manners should have perfect ease), Asking, when your parents tease, "What are rags and carpets for?" -ROSAMUND MARRIOTT WATSON, in Harper's Monthly. "THE EVENING COOL" While from the floor Show Pansies spring, By the Bentztown Bard in the Baltimore Sun: As big as saucers, quite. Larkspurs and Phlox their standards rear So thick with flowers no room Is left for leaves, and through the year Display Continuous Bloom. Exotic Ferns and Orchids Rare Grow rankly all about, So why revile grim winter's rage When summer fails to show Such flowers as those the Seedman's page And boundless fancy know? O tired day, the evening cool Dear earth, how deep must be thy joys As there by Nature's cradle stands |