QUT of the sky, the clouds fly high; Verily, merrily, thou and I Flee like the clouds from the world— There's none can find where the clouds are sped;
Young Edison in Our Village
Charles Edison has made good his various promises. His energy is keeping pace with his enthusiasm. Fourteen days ago he started his activities in Greenwich Village and he has produced in these fourteen days more positive results than all the neighborhood betterment, Greenwich Village Beautiful—and who knows what committees proposed, started and never brought to a resultful finish.
It is absolutely necessary for the mosquito to have his head securely fastened to his shoulders, and his neck is the only thing there is to do it. No matter how sharp his bill is, he couldn't push it through the skin of the person he is perched on except by having a strong neck. His whole weight, if he stood straight up on end, would not press it through. So what he does is to catch onto the skin with his feet and then by contracting the muscles of his legs and holding his neck rigid he can put enough pressure onto his bill that it goes right through.
Not yet risen is the moon; But the stars burn bright. Come, come to me, loved one, Come! Gliding o'er the gray lagoon, Robed in night—