and tenderly, of
Fanchonette. The book is bound, as you see, in a dainty blue, and the
border toolings are delicate tracings of white--all for a purpose, I
can assure you. She used to wear a dainty blue gown, from behind the
nether hem of which the most immaculate of petticoats peeped out.

If we were never boys, how barren and lonely our age would be. Next to
the ineffably blessed period of youth there is no time of life
pleasanter than that in which serene old age reviews the exploits and
the prodigies of boyhood. Ah, my gay fellows, harvest your crops
diligently, that your barns and granaries be full when your arms are no
longer able to wield the sickle!

Haec meminisse--to recall the old time--to see her rise out of the dear
past--to hear Fanchonette's voice again--to feel the grace of
springtime--how gloriously sweet this is! The little quarrels, the
reconciliations, the coquetries, the jealousies, the reproaches, the
forgivenesses--all the characteristic and endearing haps of the Maytime
of life--precious indeed are these retrospections to the hungry eyes of
age!

She wed with the perfumer's apprentice; but that was so very long ago
that I can pardon, if not forget, the indiscretion. Who knows where
she is to-day? Perhaps a granny beldame in a Parisian alley; perhaps
for years asleep in Pere la Chaise. Come forth, beloved Beranger, and
sing me the old song to make me young and strong and brave again!

Let them be served on gold--
The wealthy and the great;
Two lovers only want
A single glass and plate!
Ring ding, ring ding,
Ring ding ding--
Old wine, young lassie,
Sing, boys, sing!

XI

DIAGNOSIS OF THE BACILLUS LIBRORUM

For a good many years I was deeply interested in British politics. I
was converted to Liberalism, so-called, by an incident which I deem
well worth relating. One afternoon I entered a book-shop in High
Holborn, and found that the Hon. William E. Gladstone had preceded me
thither. I had never seen Mr. Gladstone before. I recognized him now
by his resemblance to the caricatures, and by his unlikeness to the
portraits which the newspapers had printed.

As I entered the shop I heard the bookseller ask: "What books shall I
send?"

To this, with a very magnificent sweep of his arms indicating every
point of the compass, Gladstone made answer: "Send me THOSE!"

Wit