Today's Stichomancy for Martin Luther King Jr.

Filling with good things, satisfying never- As do the seasons of the year for us, When they return and bring their progenies And varied charms, and we are never filled With the fruits of life- O this, I fancy, 'tis To pour, like those young virgins in the tale, Waters into a sieve, unfilled forever. . . . . . . Cerberus and Furies, and that Lack of Light . . . . . . Tartarus, out-belching from his mouth the surge

Of The Nature of Things

As soon as they were out of range and past the Mulivai, the German border, they got on board and (again singing - though perhaps a different song) continued their return along the English and American shore. Off Matautu they were hailed from the seaward by one of the ADLER'S boats, which had been suddenly despatched on the sound of the firing or had stood ready all evening to secure the gun. The hail was in German; the Samoans knew not what it meant, but took the precaution to jump overboard and swim for land. Two volleys and some dropping shot were poured upon them in the water; but they dived, scattered, and came to land unhurt in different quarters of Matautu. The volleys, fired inshore, raked the

And the Elderbush sent forth a strong odour in the sun, that was just about to set, and shone right in the old people's faces. They both looked so rosy-cheeked; and the youngest of the grandchildren danced around them, and called out quite delighted, that there was to be something very splendid that evening--they were all to have hot potatoes. And old Nanny nodded in the bush, and shouted 'hurrah!' with the rest."

"But that is no fairy tale," said the little boy, who was listening to the story.

"The thing is, you must understand it," said the narrator; "let us ask old Nanny."

"That was no fairy tale, 'tis true," said old Nanny; "but now it's coming. The

Fairy Tales

'And I suppose you said I was blooming.'

'Yes! And she looked as rapt as if I had said the heavens had opened to you. I said if she ever came to Tevershall she was to come to see you.'

'Me! Whatever for! See me!'

'Why yes, Clifford. You can't be so adored without making some slight return. Saint George of Cappadocia was nothing to you, in her eyes.'

'And do you think she'll come?'

'Oh, she blushed! and looked quite beautiful for a moment, poor thing! Why don't men marry the women who would really adore them?'

'The women start adoring too late. But did she say she'd come?'

'Oh!' Connie imitated the breathless Miss Bentley, 'your Ladyship, if

Lady Chatterley's Lover