There is a time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up that which is planted; a time to kill and a time to heal; a time to break down and a time to build up; a time to weep and a time to laugh; a time to mourn and a time to dance; a time to cast stones and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace and a time to refrain from embracing; a time to get and a time to lose; a time to keep and a time to cast away; a time to rend and a time to sew; a time to keep silence and a time to speak; a time to love and a time to hate; a time for war and a time for peace. I have seen the tribulation that God has given to the sons of men; yet He has made everything beautiful in its time: and I know that there is no good but for a man to rejoice and to do the good that he can in life: and I would have every man eat and drink and enjoy the fruit of his labor, for this is the gift of God. * * * * * Our neighboring city of Buffalo is to be congratulated. The International League of Press Clubs will convene there next summer. A plumber who was accidentally blackballed by the Buffalo club writes me that they will come “some in rags and some in jags.” * * * * * If the women who wheel did but know it they would undoubtedly be influenced by the fact, patent to all men, that all the compromise garments for bicycle wear are hideous. There is no beauty in and of any of them. The more cut off they are the worse. There is only one element of grace about drapery, and that is in its flowing lines. The cut-off Russian blouses are no lovelier than a high hat or a hydrant cover. By and by, when Philistine good sense shall have won dominion over the ladies who bike, it will be discovered by them that there is no essential impurity in dress. The woman who does masculine things should wear masculine covering. Why not? Is it to be assumed that the pedal branches of the human form divine are by any natural law under ban? Or is it custom that makes the difference? If so, it will be deemed indecent one of these days to drape the arms, now hidden in balloons, in the tight sleeves of our elder sisters.