the doctor--the lover goes to fetch him--and meanwhile the type-writer gives him some pious talk and converts him. Maybe it would be a good idea to ring in the prayer in this act. Livingston’s dead stuck on having it in the piece. Well, he repents of his wickedness, and when the doctor says he has only ten minutes to live he says, “Oh, if I but had the time I would make a will and leave all my wealth to this noble girl; but there is not time enough to write it.” And then Livingston says, “What’s the matter with my doing it on my faithful type-writing machine?” or words to that effect. So she takes it down like lightning, and he has just time to sign it before he expires. Now, young feller, you’ve got my idea of a play. You go to work and write something on that basis; and mind you don’t forget what I said about Livingston’s prayer and silk dress, but don’t work ’em both in in the same act. Fetch it around to me and maybe we can do business. Do you want to tackle the job? DRAMATIST (_dubiously_). I’ll try, sir, but I’m afraid it’s a little out of my line. THE CULTURE BUBBLE IN OURTOWN. You must know, in the first place, that I am a resident of the thriving city of Ourtown, where for twenty years past I have held the position of librarian in the town library--a place which has, of course, brought me into contact with the most intellectual circles of society, and has won for me general recognition as the leader of literary and artistic thought in my native city. Last winter I returned to Ourtown after a six months’ absence, and found to my dismay that the social life of the place was altered almost beyond recognition. “And is the Coasting Club still flourishing?” I inquired, eagerly, for there was a foot of snow on the ground, and my memory went back to the jolly moonlight slides that we used to enjoy on the North Hill, and the late suppers of fried oysters, beer, cheese, and even hot mince-pie which had no terrors for us. “The Coasting Club!” retorts Mrs. Jack Symple, to whom my remark was addressed; “mercy, no! We haven’t even _thought_ of coasting this winter. As for me, I’ve been so interested in the Saturday Night Club that I haven’t had a moment’s time for anything else. Oh, you’ll be surprised when you see how much more cultured the town is now than it was when you went away! You never hear anything now about skating or coasting or sleigh-rides or doings of that sort. It’s all Ibsen and Browning and Tolstoï and pre-Raphaelite art and Emerson nowadays, and Professor Gnowital says that there’s as much real culture in Ourtown, in proportion to the number of inhabitants, as there is in Boston.”