"Over seas of milk and water, Angels' wings a-flappin', Now we're purified and holy, Things like me can't happen. Liquor's gone and gone forever-- Even the word is lewd: Otherwise there's somethin' makes me Feel like I was stewed." IV--_Finale--A Short Interview with the Human Stomach_ Last night as I lay on my pillow, Last night when they'd put me to bed I spoke to my dear little tummy And wept at the words that I said: "My sensitive, beautiful tummy That once was so rosy and pure! My dainty, fastidious tummy-- O what have you had to endure? "You once were inclined to be fussy; You turned at inferior rye; You moped at a dubious vintage And shrieked if the gin wasn't dry. "But now you are covered with bunions And spongy and morbid and blue; You bite in the night like an adder-- O say, what has happened to you?" Then my sullen and sinister tummy Rose slowly and spoke to my brain; "Say, boss, what's the stuff you've been drinking That fills me with nothing but pain? "Today you had 'cocktails' for luncheon-- They tasted like sulphured cologne. They--were followed by poisonous highballs That fell in my depths like a stone. "I am dripping with bootlegger brandy, I ooze with synthetical gin; And the beer that you make in the kitchen-- Ah, dire are the wages of sin! "The cursed saloon has departed, And well we are rid of the plague; But I'm weary of furniture polish With the counterfeit label of Haig. "Yea, gone is the old-fashioned brewery And the gilded cafe is no more...." Here my tummy jumped over the pillow And fell in a fit on the floor, THE CENSORSHIP OF THOUGHT [Illustration: Robert Keable urging the Automaton called Citizen to turn on his oppressor.] ROBERT KEABLE I knew a man, about a year ago, who published a novel upon which the critics fell with such fury this side the water at least, that whether in the body or out of the body, such was ultimately his state of bewilderment, he could not tell, and if I am asked to discuss "Prohibitions, Inhibitions and Illegalities" it is natural that the incident should be foremost in my mind. True, it is becoming increasingly the fashion for a parson to preach a sermon without announcing text, but modern preaching, like brief bright brotherly breezy modern services, does not seem to cut much ice. Therefore we will hark back to the manner of our forefathers and take the incident for a text. It affords an admirable example of nonsenseorship.