g like grenadiers. Yellow women. Women with red hands.
Women with asymmetrical eyes. Women with rococo ears. Stoop-shouldered
women. Women with huge hips. Bow-legged women. Appetizing women.
Good-looking women....

_III.--Babies_

Babies smelling of camomile tea, cologne water, wet laundry, dog soap,
_Schmierkase_. Babies who appear old, disillusioned and tired of life at
six months. Babies that cry "Papa!" to blushing youths of nineteen or
twenty at church picnics. Fat babies whose earlobes turn out at an angle
of forty-five degrees. Soft, pulpy babies asleep in perambulators, the
sun shining straight into their faces. Babies gnawing the tails of
synthetic dogs. Babies without necks. Pale, scorbutic babies of the
third and fourth generation, damned because their grandfathers and
great-grandfathers read Tom Paine. Babies of a bluish tinge, or with
vermilion eyes. Babies full of soporifics. Thin, cartilaginous babies
that stretch when they are lifted. Warm, damp, miasmatic babies.
Affectionate, ingratiating, gurgling babies: the _larvae_ of life
insurance solicitors, fashionable doctors, Episcopal rectors, dealers in
Mexican mine stock, hand-shakers, Sunday-school superintendents. Hungry
babies, absurdly sucking their thumbs. Babies with heads of thick,
coarse black hair, seeming to be toupees. Unbaptized babies, dedicated
to the devil. Eugenic babies. Babies that crawl out from under tables
and are stepped on. Babies with lintels, grains of corn or shoe-buttons
up their noses, purple in the face and waiting for the doctor or the
embalmer. A few pink, blue-eyed, tight-skinned, clean-looking babies,
smiling upon the world....

_XIV.--HOMEOPATHICS_

_XIV.--Homeopathics_

1.

_Scene Infernal._

During a lull in the uproar of Hell two voices were heard.

"My name," said one, "was Ludwig van Beethoven. I was no ordinary
musician. The Archduke Rudolph used to speak to me on the streets of
Vienna."

"And mine," said the other, "was the Archduke Rudolph. I was no ordinary
archduke. Ludwig van Beethoven dedicated a trio to me."

2.

_The Eternal Democrat._

A Socialist, carrying a red flag, marched through the gates of Heaven.

"To Hell with rank!" he shouted. "All men are equal here."

Just then the late Karl Marx turned a corner and came into view,
meditatively stroking his whiskers. At once the Socialist fell upon his
knees and touched his forehead to the dust.

"O Master!" he cried. "O Master,