* * * * * PRESSIMISM. The Bard to the schemer of newspaper placards. Why, crystalliser of the world's diurnal Experience, why plunge my soul in gloom With tidings that are ghastly and infernal? Why dim my morning eye with tales of doom, Of flood and fire, of pestilence and drouth-- Leaving me down, distinctly, in the mouth? Why stun me with: "Explosion in a Larder: Cook and Policeman Blown to Bits"; "The Girl That Poisoned Half a Parish"; "Weather Harder And Death Rate Rising"; "Poacher Brains an Earl"; Why blazon blackly forth such blighting news, Nor give a glimpse of life's less dismal hues? Why not proclaim such gladness as the following: "Twins Born in Tooting: Trio Doing Well"; "Chelsea Churchwarden much Improved, and Swallowing Beef-Tea With Ease"; "A Famous Barking Belle Gets Off at Last"; "A Navvy's Love of Greek"; "Young Poet Earns a Guinea in a Week"? * * * * * "Velour Hat, pretty blue, trimmed large elephant."--_Advt._ A small seagull looks prettier and is less in the way at _matinees_. * * * * * THE CONVERTED STATISTICIAN. A sudden jolt as we thundered over some points caused me to shoot a piece of bread-and-butter on to the floor. I stooped to pick it up. "Stop a moment, please!" cried my companion. He jumped to his feet and examined it. "Ah," said he, "buttered side downward!" "It's always the same," I said, as I jerked the thing viciously out of the window. "It's _always_ buttered side downward." "No, there you fall into a common error," protested the other. "You may take it that fifty-seven per cent. fall buttered side upward, and only forty-three per cent. buttered side downward." "H'm," I said dubiously. "You must pardon me for my officiousness," he went on, "especially as I have now no reason to be interested in such things. But habits are strong." I looked at him curiously. "Habits?" I said. "Yes, habits. For years I kept an accurate record of every slice of bread-and-butter I saw fall to the ground. I had better explain myself. Nearly all my life, you must understand, I have maintained the view that the generally accepted theory of the 'cussedness of things' is all wrong. You know that to most people 'cussedness' is the governing factor of life." "Rather!" I agreed. "Well, I disbelieved it, and I set to work to collect materials for a book which was to prove my case. For years I incessantly gathered statistics on the subject. Do I bore you?" "Not at all," I assured him. "The results were extraordinary. Take, for example, catching trains. It is highly important that you should catch a train at short notice. In nine cases out of ten, you will say, your taxicab breaks down, or your tram is held up by a block in the traffic, or the current fails on the Underground." "Certainly it does."