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One hundred years ago, President Woodrow Wilson went before the United States Senate and asked Congress for a declaration of war against the Central Powers. The impetus for this declaration was Wilhelmine Germany’s return to unrestricted submarine warfare in the Atlantic. Wilson, who had a year earlier campaigned on a promise of keeping the United States out of war, now, in April, asked to send American boys to Europe in order to

fight for the things which we have always carried nearest our hearts — for democracy, for the right of those who submit to authority to have a voice in their own governments, for the rights and liberties of small nations, for a universal dominion of right by such a concert of free peoples as shall bring peace and safety to all nations and make the world itself at last free.

More… “Mist, Mountains, and Men”

Benjamin Welton is a freelance writer based in Boston. He is the author of Hands Dabbled in Blood.

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Happy Friday the 13th to all the friggatriskaidekaphiles out there! Those who flout the superstition around this day would fit in well among the members (13, of course) of the Thirteen Club, who celebrated occasions such as these by walking under ladders, spilling salt, eating morbid food, and actively trying to beget terrible luck whenever possible. (The Paris Review)

On the other hand, if you have friggatriskaidekaphobia, maybe the stress of today’s date is making you grind your teeth. Quite biting your nails and check out the bizarre history of the mouth guard. (Design Observer)

Franzen-hating Friday, anyone? Tim Parks doesn’t need you to like what he’s reading, but he implores the adoring fans of Rushdie, Murakami, Ferrante, and other purveyors of the contemporary literary novel (and its kin) to cease the madness. (The New York Review of Books) •

Maren Larsen is the associate editor of The Smart Set. She is a digital journalism student, college radio DJ, and outdoor enthusiast.

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In the last years of her life, Martha began to lose her feathers. Sol Stephan, General Manager of the Cincinnati Zoo, where Martha spent most of her years, began collecting the feathers in a cigar box without much idea of what he would do with them. Martha lived a sedentary life at the zoo. Her cage was 18 feet by 20 feet — she had never known what it was to fly free. When Martha’s last friend George (who was also named for a Washington) died in 1910, Martha became a celebrity. She watched the people passing by, alone in her enclosure, and they watched her. Martha ate her cooked liver and eggs, and her cracked corn, and sat. On the outside of her cage, Stephan placed a sign announcing Martha as the Last of the Passenger Pigeons. Visitors couldn’t believe that Martha really was the last. They would throw… More…