contributions from me every year: then why
shouldn't it from Mr. Rockefeller? In all the ages, three-fourths of the
support of the great charities has been conscience-money, as my books
will show: then what becomes of the sting when that term is applied to
Mr. Rockefeller's gift? The American Board's trade is financed mainly
from the graveyards. Bequests, you understand. Conscience-money.
Confession of an old crime and deliberate perpetration of a new one;
for deceased's contribution is a robbery of his heirs. Shall the Board
decline bequests because they stand for one of these offenses every time
and generally for both?

Allow me to continue. The charge must persistently and resentfully
and remorselessly dwelt upon is that Mr. Rockefeller's contribution is
incurably tainted by perjury--perjury proved against him in the courts.
IT MAKES US SMILE--down in my place! Because there isn't a rich man in
your vast city who doesn't perjure himself every year before the tax
board. They are all caked with perjury, many layers thick. Iron-clad,
so to speak. If there is one that isn't, I desire to acquire him for my
museum, and will pay Dinosaur rates. Will you say it isn't infraction
of the law, but only annual evasion of it? Comfort yourselves with that
nice distinction if you like--FOR THE PRESENT. But by and by, when you
arrive, I will show you something interesting: a whole hell-full of
evaders! Sometimes a frank law-breaker turns up elsewhere, but I get
those others every time.

To return to my muttons. I wish you to remember that my rich perjurers
are contributing to the American Board with frequency: it is money
filched from the sworn-off personal tax; therefore it is the wages of
sin; therefore it is my money; therefore it is _I_ that contribute it;
and, finally, it is therefore as I have said: since the Board daily
accepts contributions from me, why should it decline them from Mr.
Rockefeller, who is as good as I am, let the courts say what they may?

Satan.

INTRODUCTION TO "THE NEW GUIDE OF THE CONVERSATION IN PORTUGUESE AND ENGLISH"

by Pedro Carolino

In this world of uncertainties, there is, at any rate, one thing which
may be pretty confidently set down as a certainty: and that is, that
this celebrated little phrase-book will never die while the English
language lasts. Its delicious unconscious ridiculousness, and its
enchanting naivete, as are supreme and unapproachable, in their way,
as are