“A woman’s tongue is as full of sharp points as a porcupine,” observed Henry, who was inordinately fond of epigrammes. “But never mind, Kittens, I am the last man in the world who would deprive you of woman’s inalienable rights—love, license, and the pursuit of man.” “Their Majesties are looking well and youthful,” I said, with a gesture that included all the wives of the much-married king. “One never grows any older in Hades,” answered Henry. “That explains its attraction for women, and why the devil has so many votaries among the fair sex!” “An exclamation point often hides a pointless period. When a man talks epigrammatically about woman, it is a sign that he doesn’t understand her.” And being a woman, Catharine Parr had the last word. WHAT METHUSELAH THINKS OF DR. OSLER. CHAPTER V. What Methuselah Thinks of Dr. Osler. “O that mine adversary had written a book!” “The most miserable man in Hades is no longer Job but Methuselah,” whispered Anon. “Ever since Dr. Osler celebrated his departure for England by proposing a wholesale slaughter of the innocent aged, Methuselah has had to take a seat on the sinners’ bench. It was formerly considered an honor to be an old man, even in Hades, but now it is a disgrace not to have died young. The other day, Cain, who is the bad boy of the underworld, gave Methuselah as a birthday present a collection of thirty-six bottles of chloroform, one for each sixty years of his earthly age. Then the lad, who is Satan’s chief imp, put a placard on Methuselah’s back reading ‘Oslerized.’” “There comes a time in every man’s life when he wishes for Herod’s power, that he might order all children killed—except his own!” muttered the old man. “But I had my revenge: I was Abel to raise Cain over a foot.” “Under a spreading chestnut tree, The ancient jokesmith lies,” hummed Longfellow. “That is a prehistoric relic which leaked from the Ark when we grounded on Mt. Ararat,” volunteered Noah. “I sprung that ‘raising Cain’ joke on Mrs. Noah, but you know a woman has no sense of humor and she said she had her hands full without working the adoption degree.” “‘O, that mine adversary had written a book!’” reiterated Methuselah. “He has; your wish is fulfilled.” It was a newcomer who spoke. All eyes were turned upon him as Methuselah asked: “Who are you?” “A. Hasbeen, M.D., late secretary of the Os-slurs Chloroforming Institute of Baltimore. To-day I became a back number—60—which entitled me to a painless passing, the anæsthetic being administered by Dr. Senile. But there was no need of the old men getting angry at what Dr. Osler said about them. He intended it only for advertising purposes. Having got himself talked into notoriety, his publishers have announced that a book by the doctor is in press.”