his instance, we may be sure that Jack London brought but little
with him when he left the Doll's House; and I am very sure he never
sends back to have parcels forwarded to him.

When Mr. Upton Sinclair left the Doll's House, he evidently stuffed his
mental pockets with a large assortment of intellectual _lingerie_ and
millinery from the doll wardrobes. In telling us what Life means to him
in a recent magazine, he says that during a certain stress and storm
period of his life he lived in close intimacy with three friends who
"loved" him "very dearly." "Their names are Jesus, Hamlet and Shelley."
Can any one imagine William Morris writing a sentiment so perfectly
satisfying to a doll's sense of beauty? When I read these lines there
rises before me a picture of the author tastefully robed in an exquisite
dress--a doll's dress--of dotted swiss.[34]

Recently he has started a Co-operative Home Colony quite in the spirit
of the bourgeois Utopians who founded Brook Farm more than
half-a-century ago. Colony-founding, historians tell us, was a favorite
amusement of the dolls of that era.

In the "Times Magazine" (for December 1906) he tells us that "the home
has endured for ages, and through all the ages it has stayed about the
same." This belief, I am informed, is almost universal among dolls.

I find myself the prey of a growing suspicion that Mr. Sinclair from
time to time receives express parcels from the "Doll's House."

William Morris was a genius; he had a free and open mind; he had
courage; and he had a vivid imagination. When he left the Doll's House,
he took nothing with him, and he never afterward took anything "from
strangers." It was his poet's imagination that enabled him to write
"News from Nowhere," the only Utopia in whose communal halls the unwary
reader does not stumble over dolls' furniture. Morris is the perfect
type of the man of culture turned revolutionist.[35]

Mr. H. G. Wells has recently written a Utopian romance, "In the Days of
the Comet," which, although it possesses in the fullest measure Mr.
Wells' well known charm of style, is in substance at best a very feeble
echo of "News from Nowhere." One of the modes of thought specially
characteristic of eighteenth century French dolls is strongly to the
fore in Mr. Wells' treatment of war. In the conversations "after the
Change" between Melmount, the famous Cabinet Minister, and the pitiful,
cowardly, inefficient hero (?), Leadford, they both appear