Typed in WordPerfect V7 for Windows 95. Converted to ASCII DOS delimited text by WP7. Original WP version is available if desired. email: Jim@halcyon.com JimEnnes@aol.com Jim_Ennes_Jr@juno.com HERMIONE AND HER LITTLE GROUP OF SERIOUS THINKERS BY DON MARQUIS CONTENTS PROEM Introducing Some of Hermione's Friends Sincerity in the Home Vibrations Aren't the Russians Wonderful? How Suffering Purifies One! Understanding and One's Own Home Thoughts of Heredity and Things The Swami Brandranath Fothergil Finch, the Poet of Revolt How the Swami Happened to Have Seven Wives The Romantic Old Days Hermione's Boswell Explains Symbols and Dew-Hopping The Song of the Snore Ballads of Understanding Hermione on Fashions and War Urges and Dogs Moods and Poppies Concentration Soul Mates Hermione Takes up Literature The World Is Getting Better War and Art A Spiritual Dialogue Will the Best People Receive the Superman Socially? The Parasite Woman Must Go! The House Beautiful Mamma Is So Mid-Victorian Voke Easely and His New Art Hermione on Superficiality Isis, the Astrologist The Simple Home Festivals Citronella and Stegomyia Hermione's Salon Opens (Verse) The Perfume Factory On Being Other-Worldly Parents, and Their Influence Fothergil Finch Tell of His Revolt Against Organized Society The Exotic and the Unemployed Souls and Toes Kultur and Things The Spirit of Christmas Poor Dear Mamma and Fothergil Finch Prison Reform and Poise An Example of Psychic Power Some Beautiful Thoughts The Bourgeois Element and Background Taking Up the Liquor Problem The Japanese are Wonderful, If You Get What I Mean She Refuses to Give UP the Cosmos The Cave Man The Little Group Gives a Pagan Masque Sympathy Blouses, Bulgars, and Buttermilk Twilight Sleep Intuition Stimulating Influences Politics Hermione on Psychical Research Envoy Hermione the Deathless HERMIONE PROEM (Introducing some of Hermione's Friends) I visited one night, of late, Thoughts Underworld, the Brainstorm Slum, The land of Futile Piffledom; A salon weird where congregate Freak, Nut and Bug and Psychic Bum. There, there, they sit and cerebrate: The fervid Pote who never potes, Great Artists, Male or She, that Talk But scorn the Pigment and the chalk, And Cubist sculptors wild as Goats, Theosophists and Swamis, too, Musicians mad as Hatters be-- (E'en puzzled Hatters, two or three!) Tame anarchists, a dreary crew, Squib Socialists too damp to sosh, Fake Hobohemians steeped in suds, Glib females in Artistic Duds With Captive Husbands cowed and gauche. I saw some Soul Mates side by side Who said their cute young Souls were pink; I saw a Genius on the Brink (Or so he said) of suicide. I saw a Playwright who had tried But couldn't make the Public think; I saw a novelist who cried, Reading his own Stuff, in his drink; I saw a vapid egg-eyed Gink Who said eight times: "Art is my bride!"