If a man has nothing to lose, says a recent critic, the host of professions is “philanthrophy.” A journal offered a prize the other day for a piece df poetry to be twenty lines in length without the letter “s” once occurring in it. Billy Jones sat up all night with- his head in a linseed meal poultice, pegging away like anything, and by daylight he actually pulled it off, and took the result round to Popsy for her opinion. “ You might improve it still,” she said. “How?” “By leaving out all the other letters too.”
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