Tattlesome Tit-bits.

Likewise, here is a world strewn with tattlesome tit-bits. When the essayist prizes himself loose from the kapok in the morning does he have to corrugate the dome and beetle the brow in peripatetic ponderation? Not a chance! His first idea comes while he squeezes his tooth paste out of the tube, and he throws an essay either on the “Romance of Spaghetti” or “The Indian Rope Trick.” He might sit down to breakfast on the chair with the wobbly leg that he has promised to tighten since the armistice and—hey presti-digito!—here is an article on “Thrones that Have Tottered,” or “Famous Falls.”

Should a dog bite him, the blood is hardly dry on his leg before he has pulled an essay on Venice, with particular reference to the Doges Palace,

“The Life of Shelley.”

page 51 or a dissertation on Tails from Hoffmann including the Barker-roll.

And now time appears to be ripe to tear off a brace of short samples.