e the silent tear of the gray autumnal sky will come
and sink into the yellow grass above his head.

BILL NYE.

BILL NYE'S ADVICE BAG.

ANXIOUS QUESTIONS ANSWERED.

PRESIDENT CLEVELAND'S CHILLING NEGLECT OF AN EDITOR DENOUNCED--THE WOMAN
IN THE SLEEPING COACH--CALM REASONING DEALT OUT.

ANSWERS TO CORRESPONDENTS.

_"Ghoulish Glee," Bucyrus, O._, writes: "For two years I have been
sending a copy of my paper, the 'Palladium and Observer' to President
Cleveland. Although I have criticised his administration editorially
several times, I have done so with the best of motives and certainly for
his good. If he was angry with me for this, he surely has never so
expressed himself to me, but last August I sent him a bill for his paper
covering two years and over, and he has not answered my letter up to
this date. Will you answer this through the columns of the _Daily News_
telling me what I had better do, and so that others who may be in the
same fix can understand what your advice would be in such a case?"

Stop his paper. By all means deprive him of the paper. You should have
done so before. Then you will feel perfectly free to criticise his
administration to the bitter end.

Nothing startles a president any more than to shut off a paper that he
has become attached to. Mr. Cleveland will go out and paw around in the
wet grass in front of the white house, and finally he will go in,
wondering what has become of the Palladium and Observer. In a week or
two he will remit and tell you to continue sending the paper. Do not
criticise his administration too severely till you see whether he is
going to remit or not.

_Early Rose, Mankato, Minn._, writes: "Is it proper to mark passages in
a book of poems loaned to one by a young man in whom one feels an
interest, or should one be content with simply expressing one's
admiration of certain passages in the book?"

I think the latter plan would be preferable, Rose. I am sure that young
ladies make a great mistake when they mark the earnest and impassioned
passages in a book of poems belonging to another. I once loaned a book
of poems written by a gentleman named Swinburne. In this book Mr.
Swinburne had several times expressed himself as being violently in love
with all the works of nature, especially those people who differed with
him in the matter of sex. He wrote so fluently and so earnestly
regarding the matter of love that I loaned the book to a young lady,
hopi