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Literary Lapses
·
Stephen Leacock
110
"Policeman
H.
Your
hand
shows
great
firmness;
when
once
set
upon
a
thing
you
are
not
easily
moved.
But
you
have
a
mean,
grasping
disposition
and
a
tendency
to
want
more
than
your
share.
You
have
formed
an
attachment
which
you
hope
will
be
continued
throughout
life,
but
your
selfishness
threatens
to
sever
the
bond."
Having
written
which,
Mr.
Scalper
arranges
his
manuscript
for
the
printer
next
day,
dons
his
hat
and
coat,
and
wends
his
way
home
in
the
morning
twilight,
feeling
that
his
pay
is
earned.
The
Passing
of
the
Poet
Studies
in
what
may
be
termed
collective
psychology
are
essentially
in
keeping
with
the
spirit
of
the
present
century.
The
examination
of
the
mental
tendencies,
the
intellectual
habits
which
we
display
not
as
individuals,
but
as
members
of
a
race,
community,
or
crowd,
is
offering
a
fruitful
field
of
speculation
as
yet
but
little
exploited.
One
may,
therefore,
not
without
profit,
pass
in
review
the
relation
of
the
poetic
instinct
to
the
intellectual
development
of
the
present
era.
Not
the
least
noticeable
feature
in
the
psychological
evolution
of
our
time
is
the
rapid
disappearance
of
poetry.
The
art
of
writing
poetry,
or
perhaps
more
fairly,
the
habit
of
writing
poetry,
is
passing
from
us.
The
poet
is
destined
to
become
extinct.
To
a
reader
of
trained
intellect
the
initial
difficulty
at
once
suggests
itself
as
to
what
is
meant
by
poetry.
But
it
is
needless
to
quibble
at
a
definition
of
the
term.
It
may
be
designated,
simply
and
fairly,
as
the
art
of
expressing
a
simple
truth
in
a
concealed
form
of
words,
any
number
of
which,
at
intervals
greater
or
less,
may
or
may
not
rhyme.
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