his abode,
he sent on his window-plants, calceolarias and geraniums, to that
which he intended to occupy several days before he went himself, and
immediately found that he was pestered with flies, whereas previously
he had enjoyed perfect immunity from the nuisance. A more agreeable
remedy cannot be conceived. Next autumn let our windows be a blaze
of brilliancy, so that all visitors to the Centennial may say, at all
events, "There are no flies in Philadelphia."

LITERATURE OF THE DAY.

Shakespeare Hermeneutics; or, The Still Lion. Being an Essay towards
the Restoration of Shakespeare's Text. By C.M. Ingleby, M.A., LL.D.
London: Truebner & Co.

Setting aside those who care merely to see a play on the stage, it may
be said that of Shakespeare there are readers and readers; and both
classes have rights and privileges which should be treated with
deference. The reader who studies every line should not fleer at
him who studies not at all. Have we not a right to read a play of
Shakespeare's through in two short hours, surrendering ourselves,
unvexed by logic or grammar, to the enchantment which scenes and
phrases and words conjure up as they glide through our minds? When all
the atmosphere is tremulous with airs from heaven or blasts from hell,
must we, forsooth! stop and philosophically investigate what Hamlet
means by a "_dram of eale"_? Must we lose a scruple of the sport by
turning aside to find out what Malvolio means by the "_lady of the
Strachey_"? If Timon chooses to invite _Ullorxa_ to his feast, are we
to bar the door because no one ever heard the name before? No: let us
have our Shakespeare (is he not as much ours as yours?) free from
all notes, on a page purified from the musty cobwebs of black-letter
pedants. We want no jargon of bickering critics to drown the music
that sings at Heaven's gate. Give us those immortal plays just
as Shakespeare wrote them, that we may read them without let or
hinderance.

But, fair and softly, is not this the very point at which we are
striving? With all our twistings and turnings, our patchings and
piecings, have we aught else in view than to decipher just what
Shakespeare wrote? Where are Shakespeare's exact words to be found?
Not in the so-called Quartos; for they are said by Shakespeare's
intimate and dear friends to have been "maimed and deformed by the
frauds and stealthes of injurious impostors," and taken down perhaps
from the lips of some of the actors, bri