The formality of bidding adieu to the hostess at an afternoon tea is now dispensed with; the omission is considered with favor and in good taste. No after calls are made in acknowledgement of a tea. The little trifle of ceremony that stood for courtesy is about all cast aside. The program now is—Greet, Eat and Git. * * * * * I observe that Mr. Andrew Lang is to write some verses to be read at a dinner of the Omar Club in London “on some future occasion.” I shall watch for these with much interest, remembering, meanwhile, these verses recently read before that remarkable organization: We envy not the saint what bliss he hath: Still let him cheer his puritanic path With what of joy his joyless rules permit: The beer of ginger and the bun of Bath. We plunder not the Pharasaic fold Whose drinks are new, whose jests and maidens old; Content to cherish what the Dervish hates, The cup of ruby and the curls of gold. It is noted that Mr. W. Irving Way of Chicago was present at the last Omar club dinner. He should give us some notable reminiscences of the feast. Speaking of Way, I hear that he has gone into the publishing business in Chicago. As a critic of the mechanical construction of books he is supreme, but I wonder will his publishing be that of literature or wool from the wild west. * * * * * “You have us down one dollar for dog tax. I’d have you know we keep no dog,” said the man to the tax gatherer. “I understand,” answered the publican, “but you subscribe to the Albany _Argus_!” * * * * * Buffalo, N. Y., has a _Young Ladies’ Magazine_. It has a beautiful picture of a skirt dance on the cover of its prospectus, which is ever so much more interesting than Mr. Bok’s Bermuda lily gatherer seven feet tall. * * * * * Now that Robert Louis Stevenson’s will has been published in full text as a feature story, perhaps Mr. So So McClure may desist. The will is almost as thrilling as a market report. Its publication explains in part, however, how the cheap magazine movement is founded. Next we shall see the weather and a Congressional debate among the contents of the cheap-books. * * * * * Prizes are offered in Judge Tourgee’s _Basin_ to preachers, women and “colored writers,” for short stories. The Judge is bound to keep solid with the three sexes as he understands them. * * * * * It is matter of record in _McClure’s_ that Edmund Goose’s poem on Samoa, which it prints, “reached Robert Louis Stevenson three days before his death.” There is a horrible suggestion in the little nonpareil footnote that the poem may have hastened that sad event. It’s bad enough. A LYRIC OF JOY. Over the shoulders and slopes of the dune I saw the white daisies go down to the sea.