the dwelling a white-haired lady was looking out,
between lace curtains, with a sort of horror. Query, was she part of the
picture, or only the aristocratic owner of the house, dismayed at
finding her home suddenly become part of a celluloid drama? Spondee had
always had a soft spot in his heart for Miss Dorothy, esteeming her a
highly entertaining creature. He was disappointed in the tranquil
outcome of the scene. He had hoped to see leaping from windows and all
manner of hot stuff. Near by stood a coloured groom with a horse. The
observers concluded that Miss Gish was to do a little galloping shortly.
Dactyl and Spondee moved away. Spondee quoted a poem he had once written
about Miss Dorothy. He recollected only two lines:

She makes all the rest seem a shoal of poor fish
So _we_ cast _our_ ballot for Dorothy Gish.

Peering again into the dark backward and abysm, it seems that the two
rejuvenated gossips trundled up on Lexington Avenue to Alfred
Goldsmith's cheerful bookshop. Here they were startled to hear Mr.
Goldsmith cry: "Well, Chris, here are some nice bones for you." One of
these visitors assumed this friendly greeting was for him, but then it
was explained that Mr. Goldsmith's dog, named Christmas, was feeling
seedy, and was to be pampered. At this moment in came the postman with a
package of books, arrived all the way from Canada. One of these books
was "Salt of the Sea," a volume of tales by Morley Roberts, and upon
this Spondee fell with a loud cry, for it contained "The Promotion of
the Admiral," being to his mind a tale of great virtue which he had not
seen in several years. Dactyl, meanwhile, was digging out some volumes
of Gissing, and on the faces of both these creatures might have been
seen a pleasant radiation of innocent cheer. Mr. Goldsmith also
exhibited (it is still remembered) a beautiful photo of Walt Whitman,
which entertained the visitors, for it showed old Walt with his
coat-sleeve full of pins, which was ever Walt's way.

How long ago it all seems. Does Miss Dorothy still act for the pictures?
Does Chris, the amiable Scots terrier, still enjoy his bones? Does old
Dactyl still totter about his daily tasks? Queer to think that it
happened only yesterday. Well, time runs swift in New York.

FIRST LESSONS IN CLOWNING

[Illustration]

A medley of crashing music, pungently odd and exhilarating smells, the
roaring croon of the steam calliope, the sweet lingering savour of
cl