The Review learns that its previous notices
concerning voluntary submission of articles have not been received with
100 per cent conviction. It appears that many capable writers still
await a personal invitation before offering materials which well might
add to the sum of Service information. As pointed out before, The
Review welcomes volunteers. It does not wish to restrict to a list
of formal requests the great wealth of subjects about which members of
the field staff probably possess unpublished information. It can make
specific requests only of those employees whose duties are known to
include researches, discoveries and activities of general interest. Yet
many other workers --- some often described carelessly as "obscure"---
also enjoy unusual opportunities for assembling worthy observations.
In recognition of these facts, The Review
again emphasizes its willingness to examine unsolicited materials. Some
already received have been excellent, and it appears that others just as
good are illuminating the interior of the bushel of modesty.
"In what language do they telegraph the news?" asks
The New York Herald Tribune (August 13) in an editorial which
points with gratification to the flourishing wildlife of Bear Mountain
Park where "only a generation back the sight of a wild animal would have
aroused in most watchers regret that they had no moans of killing it. .
"How does it get about that suddenly a dangerous wood
has become safe for deer, that people of this place like screech owls,
that here the fox need fear no hound?. . . Will a day come when great
regions of the world will be like this woodland and men will feel the
change with no announcement, telling their kind by their own conduct as
these animals and birds have done, that in a certain place there is
inexplicable but proved tolerance and well-being?. . . Almost it seems
credible, when a mixed million of humans a year can pass through a
wilderness and harm nothing."
SLEEP EMARGO REPEALED
September 11 dawned bright and clear. No cloud by its
semidiaphaneity bedimmed the cordial rays of a friendly sun which, with
the reseate fingers of morning, plucked gently away the last
crepusculous shadows of the sombre mantle that the earth, after
refreshing slumber, now prepared to lay gratefully aside. In fact, it
was an all-round fine day.
By telephone and back fence, housewives spread the
joyous news. The men, scurrying to bustling marts, paused at street
corners and voiced their opinions with looks of inward satisfaction. A
great mass meeting was called and there were patriotic speeches, pledges
of fealty and spontaneous paeans of praise. Congress was memorialized
and messages of good will were sent to the democracies. Peace reigned
and the lion and the lamb sat down together over a mess of cracked ice.
The unfaltering forces of civilization had extirpated the last hideous
vestiges of barbarism. The Golden Age of Sleep had dawned.
After its lapse into the unmannerly customs of
summer, the Service, ever humane at heart, had resumed its to-work-at-9
o'clock-in-the-morning schedule. --- H. R. A.