The following may be reasonably conceived as the final preparation for the impending invasion: President Castro: “Are the choruses well drilled and are the comedians and soubrettes in good voice?” Leader of the Orchestra: “Si, Senor.” President Cas.: “Are the costumes new and up-to-date, and is scenery in good order and packed for shipment?” Master of Properties: “Si, Senor.” President Cas.: “Has the vanguard of press agents and bill posters taken the field?” Booking Agent: “A most formidable array, your Augustness.” President Cas.: “Then on the road! And may your performances prove so meritorious that you will carry everything before you till you reach the great Metropolis itself. This feat your proud people expect you to accomplish in time for the fall openings.” After which labored and patriotic outburst the president lit a cigarette and called for a demi-tasse with which to restore his depleted energies. HARD LUCK. It was his sixtieth birthday and in times agone he had fondly anticipated the arrival of that occasion as marking a happy fruition of his talents and a mature mellowing of his energies. Instead, however, he found himself summoned to appear before the public executioner with the family Bible and prove its records false or be humanely extinguished in the interest of modern enlightenment. “This is too hard,” he murmured, “but it would be infamous as well as futile to question the authority of the Good Book, and besides I am too young to die. Though I appreciate theoretically the demands of civilization, as a practical proposition the idea has its limitations.”