happy.
Now the most original of his hints
For galvanizing these dreary prints
Is this: That every parson, before
He aspires to be parish editor,
Should join the staff of a leading daily
And learn to write genially and gaily.
It may be a counsel of sheer perfection,
And yet, perhaps, on further reflection,
We may admit that something is gained
By the plan of having clergymen trained
In the very heart of the Street of Ink
To paint their parish magazines pink.
So generous laymen may haply decide
That it _may_ be worth their while to provide
Each KENNEDY BELL with stepping-stones
To rise to the height of a KENNEDY JONES.
But others, a small and dwindling crew,
Possibly fit, but certainly few,
And cursed with a most pronounced capacity
For suffering from inept vivacity,
Would gladly be reckoned as unenlightened
Could they keep one class of journal un-"brightened."

* * * * *

[Illustration: "MY DEAR, YOU ARE NOT DANCING."

"NO--MOST PROVOKING. I MISLAID MY PARTNER AT PADDINGTON, AND HE HASN'T THE
FAINTEST IDEA WHERE THE DANCE IS."]

* * * * *

THE PASSING OF THE LITTER.

It happened only a couple of weeks ago, but the horrible memory comes back
to me as if it only happened yesterday. It was my own fault, because with a
telephone loose about the place one ought not to encourage other pets.

"Well," I said to Sibyl, "there we are, and we must make the best of them."

Sibyl sniffed as she usually does when these periodical occurences happen
in our house.

"Which of them are you going to keep?" she asked, "and is it really
necessary to keep any of them?"

"Well," I said; "but----"

"What I mean to say," said Sibyl, "better do away with them when they are
quite young. It would be far more humane."

"I am with you up to a point," I said; "I admit they are not a very
prepossessing lot."

"How they came to be born at all is what I cannot understand," said Sibyl,
who is always like that when trying to be serious.

"Well," I said, "I have decided to keep one of them--No. 1."

"But surely," said Sibyl, "that the most delicate one of the lot."

That, I well knew, was quite true. Whether I should ever rear No. 1 was a
matter for time to prove. It was so delicate that once or twice already it
had been on the verge of collapse, but I had rallied it each time.

"As for the others," I said, "we shall have to