Today's Stichomancy for Kelsey Grammer

is fair, but no one could mistake him for a man of the north even by the dim gleam of the lantern standing on the quay. He is worth a dozen of your ordinary Normans or Bretons, but then, in the whole immense sweep of the Mediterranean shores, you could not find half a dozen men of his stamp.

Standing by the tiller, he pulls out his watch from under a thick jacket and bends his head over it in the light cast into the boat. Time's up. His pleasant voice commands in a quiet undertone "Larguez." A suddenly projected arm snatches the lantern off the quay--and, warped along by a line at first, then with the regular tug of four heavy sweeps in the bow, the big

Some Reminiscences

She pushed him away. It was unbearable - at any risk, cost what it might. Mind, soul and body recoiled from the embrace.

"Leave me alone!" she panted. "You've been drinking. Leave me alone!"

He drew back, and laughed.

"Not very much," he said. "The celebration hasn't started yet, and you'll be in on that. I guess your nerves have been getting shaky lately, haven't they? Well, you can figure on the swellest rest-cure you ever heard of, Bertha. Take it from me! We're going down to keep the Pug company presently. You blow around to Matty's about midnight and get the election returns. We'll finish the job after that by getting Cloran out of the road some way before morning,

narrow fashion, he explains it by the absolute over-growth of the laboring population, not by their becoming relatively supernumerary.'' A few pages later, however, Marx comes back again to the question of over-population, failing to realize that it is to the capitalists' advantage that the working classes are unceasingly prolific. ``The folly is now patent,'' writes the unsuspecting Marx, ``of the economic wisdom that preaches to the laborers the accommodation of their numbers to the requirements of capital. The mechanism of capitalist production and accumulation constantly affects this adjustment. The first work of this adaptation is the creation of a relatively surplus population or industrial reserve army. Its last work is the misery of

I may not turn up again here for years. I don't see why! . . . Do you mean to say it is customary?"

"It will be expected from a man like you," he breathed out placidly. "Eight of the principal clerks, the manager, that's nine, you three gentlemen, that's twelve. It needn't be very expensive. If you tell your steward to give me a day's notice - "

"It will be expected of me! Why should it be expected of me? Is it because I look particularly soft - or what?

His immobility struck me as dignified suddenly, his imperturbable quality as dangerous. "There's plenty of time to think about that," I concluded weakly with a gesture that tried to wave him

'Twixt Land & Sea