s let us have a Poets' Corner, where
a man can be inspired in peace."

For four days this entry lay in the book apparently unnoticed. On the
fifth day the following lines, signed by Samson, appeared:

"I approve of Homer's suggestion. There should be a Poets' Corner here.
Then the rest of us could have some comfort. While playing _vingt-et-un_
with Diogenes in the card-room on Friday evening a poetic member of this
club was taken with a most violent fancy, and it required the combined
efforts of Diogenes and myself, assisted by the janitor, to remove the
frenzied and objectionable member from the room. The habit some of our
poets have acquired of giving way to their inspirations all over the club-
house should be stopped, and I know of no better way to accomplish this
desirable end than by the adoption of Homer's suggestion. Therefore I
second the motion."

Of course the suggestion of two members so prominent as Homer and Samson
could not well he ignored by the house committee, and it reluctantly took
the subject in hand at an early meeting.

"I find here," said Demosthenes to the chairman, as the committee
gathered, "a suggestion from Homer and Samson that this house-boat be
provided with a Poets' Corner. I do not know that I approve of the
suggestion myself, but in order to bring it before the committee for
debate I am willing to make a motion that the request be granted."

"Excuse me," put in Doctor Johnson, "but where do you find that
suggestion? 'Here' is not very definite. Where _is_ 'here'?"

"In the complaint-book, which I hold in my hand," returned Demosthenes,
putting a pebble in his mouth so that he might enunciate more clearly.

A frown ruffled the serenity of Doctor Johnson's brow.

"In the complaint-book, eh?" he said, slowly. "I thought house
committees were not expected to pay any attention to complaints in
complaint-books. I never heard of its being done before."

"Well, I can't say that I have either," replied Demosthenes, chewing
thoughtfully on the pebble, "but I suppose complaint-books are the places
for complaints. You don't expect people to write serial stories or
dialect poems in them, do you?"

"That isn't the point, as the man said to the assassin who tried to stab
him with the hilt of his dagger," retorted Doctor Johnson, with some
asperity. "Of course, complaint-books are for the reception of
complaints--nobody disputes that. What I want to have determined is
whether i