crolls and intricacies over the raiment of male and female.
The befrogged officer is no longer limited in the arabesques of braid
and tinsel that make gay his manly breast. He commands all the resources
of Snip's imagination, and whirligigs beyond what hath entered the mind
of man to conceive will shortly meander over the cerulean expanse.

KATERFELTO IN REPOSE.

Is there not a lull in the quack-medicine business? Its advertisements
do not appear to us to shine with the brilliancy of old. Those
astonishing portraits of Old Doctor So-and-So, and the gorgeous
perspective view of the interior of Professor Snooks's laboratory, all
alive with forty 'prentice-power pill-machines and tincture-vats like
the pools of a swimming academy, have ceased to illustrate the condition
of modern art and medicine.

Possibly, the sensational style has been found to have lost its force,
and a more quiet and stately tone to be more promotive of the popularity
of bread-pills and root-bitters. It looks more professional.
Mountebankery in physic has been overdone, as it has in a great many
other things. The quacks, if they successfully inculcate this lesson and
bring in a corresponding reform, will have been useful public servants.
Others have been forcing the pace as well as they, and may well slacken
speed, if not call a halt. The blatant and dogmatic has been
increasingly predominant in the announcement of new theories, notions
and "missions." We are all concerned in seeing it checked, and simple
truth and plodding inquiry once more given a chance. Repeated
disappointments have made the world distrustful of startling discoveries
and sweeping panaceas--a fact which should commend itself to the
attention of all the charlatans, and of those who, not charlatans, have
caught from them the fashion of violent and premature trumpeting.
Political and social cure-alls will have to work their way slowly and
painfully into notice. They must submit to the rules of trade, and not
look for success until they have demonstrated that what they offer in
the market is what it pretends to be. The world is tired of being taken
by storm. Just now it is in a more than usually distrustful mood--in a
state of marked disillusionment. It declines to have a creed of any kind
slammed into its face--so many new ones have palpably failed, and so
many old ones have proved themselves possessed of forgotten virtues.
Good and evil have proved to be omnipresent, and to perva