left to view the exhibits. They just rest in the vestibule
awhile, and go home, and collapse.

It is the same way with most of our churches, and half of our clubs.
Why, they are even beginning to build steps in front of our great
railway stations. Yes, that is what happens when railway men trust a
"good" architect. He designs something that will make it more difficult
for people to travel, and will discourage them and turn them back if
possible at the start of their journey. And all this is done in the name
of art. Why can't art be more practical?

There's one possible remedy:

No architect who had trouble with his own legs would be so
inconsiderate. His trouble is, unfortunately, at the other end. Very
well, break his legs. Whenever we citizens engage a new architect to put
up a building, let it be stipulated in the contract that the Board of
Aldermen shall break his legs first. The only objection I can think of
is that his legs would soon get well. In that case, elect some more
aldermen and break them again.

To Phoebe

It has recently been discovered that one of the satellites of Saturn,
known as Phoebe, is revolving in a direction the exact contrary of
that which all known astronomical laws would have led us to expect.
English astronomers admit that this may necessitate a fundamental
revision of the nebular hypothesis.--_Weekly Paper._

Phoebe, Phoebe, whirling high
In our neatly-plotted sky,
Listen, Phoebe, to my lay:
Won't you whirl the other way?

All the other stars are good
And revolve the way they should.
You alone, of that bright throng,
Will persist in going wrong.

Never mind what God has said--
We have made a Law instead.
Have you never heard of this
Neb-u-lar Hy-poth-e-sis?

It prescribes, in terms exact,
Just how every star should act.
Tells each little satellite
Where to go and whirl at night.

Disobedience incurs
Anger of astronomers,
Who--you mustn't think it odd--
Are more finicky than God.

So, my dear, you'd better change.
Really, we can't rearrange
Every chart from Mars to Hebe
Just to fit a chit like Phoebe.

Sex, Religion and Business

A young Russian once, in the old nineteenth century days, revisited the
town he was born in, and took a look at the people. They seemed
stupid--especially the better classes. They had narrow-minded ideas of
what was