Page 11

APRIL, 1924
Counting Sheep
Being the Exposition of a Strategic Move Against Sleeplessness
BY CLYDE G. STRACHAN
ONE counts sheep, of course, to put
himself or herself to sleep. The
0        "of course" part of the statement
has a sound of cock-sureness which
might make one believe that I have fol-
lowed the process as a cure for sleep-
lessness all my life. But I have not.
It was only after two years at the Uni-
versity that I found the proper way to
mind-herd my sheep; even then the task
proved so interesting and exciting that
my discovery threatened to enhance the
very thing it was supposed to do away
with.
As to my recollections of real sheep,
I must say that there is nothing in them
which one could consider conducive to
drowsiness. I once spattered the ribs of
one with part of a charge of small shot
hisl or hesl to slee. .T..e
meant for a rabbit, and its sudden blat
and scurry through the brush will al-
ways disturb my mind when I think of
it.I have seen in Wisconsin a few be-
draggled bands of them, wandering about
their fenced-in confines in search of
herbage missed in f o r m e r nibblings.
They looked weary enough to make one
feel tired, and might be effectual as
sleep-producers in spite of their lack of
numbers, if it were not that my remem-
brance of them is so overshadowed by
that of the huge flocks I have seen in the
west. Anyone who has seen those west-
ern flocks would never connect them with
sleep. Rather, men go crazy upon look-
ing at them  day after day, for they
move about always in a thick cloud of
dust, bleating incessantly and smelling
strongly, and do foolish things sud-
denly and in unison. At the clipping
pens their racket and odor and dust is
such as to almost deaden all of one's
senses except his sense of humor, which
is a blessing, for there is the relief of
laughing at them in their embarrassed
nakedness.
I had all that as a background when
I found it necessary to resort to sheep
as an opiate. They would not work.
I could not get over my recollections of
them, and put them out on a plain, where
I tried to count them. They milled about,
and sections of the flock that I had
p blocked out and counted would spread,
and mix with thethehers. I suppose that
such actions on the part of my sheep
indicated a lack of control over my mind.
Those sheep certainly seemed to dom-
inate my will-power, and I had to get
up and smoke my pipe to dismiss them
from my thoughts. Strange to say, it
was the idea that I did not have control
of my mind that finally sent me to bed
SUNDAY AFTERNOON AT
WILLOWSLEIGH
By MARYA ZATURENSKA
OHN strolls out with Dorothy
While little Rose and Phillis
play
At tea party; they seem to be
Quaint children by Kate Green-
away.
The small bell in the belfry show-
ers
A golden and triumphant note.
The old men dream    among the
flowers
Or watch the white swans float.
Small boys go past the latticed
shop,
Where old dame Madge sells cake
for tea,
And chocolate creams and lollypop,
Which they sniff wistfully.
So through the noon in Willows-
leigh,
The children play in merriment;
The lovers walk, and quietly
Their elders dream in slow con-
tent .
Till the sun fades, and then is
heard
But the shrill humming of the bees
In old gardens, or a bird
Singing his heart out in the trees.
IMPRESSION
By FRANK JONES
A UTUMN
Turned the leaves of one
bent tree
To silver. Almost as spring might
have done,
3ut it was not a joyous April sil-
ver.
Rather it was sad
Like the hair of old, old men.
and to sleep. For, I reflected, if, ex-
cept for some fundamental instincts, my
mind controls me, and I attempt to con-
trol my mind, it must be a struggle of
my mind to control my mind, and-,
Well, you can see where it would lead
to. I might have substituted such a train
of thought for sheep-counting, if I had
not met a friend, a girl, the next day and
told her of my difficulties.
"Why, of course, silly," she said. "You
can't count sheep out in a field. Make
them go through a gate, and count them
one at a time."
"Oh, thanks," was all that I could say,
for I was rather taken aback by my
stupidity.
I tried her plan that night. Somehow
it was difficult to make a fence, for I
had not thought of large numbers of
sheep in connection with fences. I fin-
ally built one, however, though I could
not imagine a little gate in the long
fence I had constructed across my mind.
It simply had to be one of those wide
ones, which you have to lift off the
ground to swing open. In my first at-
tempt I left it wide open, and the sheep
crowded through in uncountable num-
bers. I was almost in despair when I
suddenly hit upon the plan of closing
the gate so as to leave only enough room
for one sheep to get through at a time.
They ran very fast, and I had to count
fast, but I discovered that I could make
them come from such a direction that
they had to slow up and make a turn
to get through. Very often two came up
at the same time, and were stuck in the
opening, which slowed up things some-
what; furthermore I had to concentrate
very firmly on the gate to keep some of
the sheep from jumping over the fence.
As I have said, the herding of my
sheep was so interesting that it only kept
me awake the first couple of nights. But
since then I have learned to control my
flock with an iron mind, holding it strict-
ly to its purpose. Lately a dog has come
upon the scene, and I am always glad to
see him. For his arrival is always a
signal of coming sleep; he appears sud-
denly, and in the middle of the flock of
counted sheep. They scatter, scampering
toward the horizon of my huge pasture,
and go and go until they have drifted
from sight.
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