nd you have the newspaper "lie" in so many of its aspects, an
analysis that leads him to arrive at this rather remarkable deduction:

I might almost define a lie as being the narrative of a human event
that had been printed.

And what about a comparison of those "other" liars with the newspaper man?
Allison makes it very adroitly this way:

Suppose every word that every member of this intelligent and most
respectable audience has said today:--the merchant to his customers
and creditors; the man of leisure to his cronies and companions,
the professional man to his clients; even the ladies to their bosom
friends at tea or euchre--suppose, I say, that every word you had
uttered had been taken down by some marvelous mechanical
contrivance, and should be published verbatim tomorrow morning with
your names attached showing just what each of you had said. What do
you think would happen? I can tell you from observation. You would
likely spend next year explaining, denying, apologizing and
repenting. Suits for slander would appear on the courthouse shelves
as thick as blackberries in August. There would be friendships
shattered, confidences dissipated, feuds established, social
anarchy enthroned and perhaps this admirable club could never hold
another meeting for lack of a quorum of members willing to meet
each other in one room.

Well, browsing time is up! I wish I might open the pages of other gems and
quote from their wit, their satire and their sentiment, but any reference
to Allison's productions must of very necessity touch only the high spots
and besides that--

This volume wouldn't be big enough!

IN _the_ OPERATIC FIELD

Did I remark in some preceding breath that Allison is more or less "dippy"
over music? Well, the statement, though made kindly, is severely and
unqualifiedly true and whenever there is "big music" in town I can always
find him in a front seat where he won't miss a single note. This inherent
love of music was what first led him to listen by the hour to Henry Waller
at the piano and later into setting words to Waller's big creations. When
Philip Sousa was in Louisville five or six years ago and told Allison that
the time was ripe to revive "The Ogallallas," which embraced, he said, some
of the finest music he had ever heard, I inquired of Waller's whereabouts.
"Heaven knows!" Allison replied, "And I wish I did, too!" So