Several solemn newspapers have taken seriously to the extent of half a column or so the proposal of a San Francisco publishing house to “bring out good literature in a cheap form,” which sounds much like the advance agent talk of most publishing houses. It isn’t a joke, to be sure, but a good deal depends on what is meant by “good literature.” Thundering in the prologue is not a novelty, but there may be a storm coming for all that. * * * * * I note that the brilliant Bok has gone to writing proverbs. Here is one culled at random from “A Handful of Laconics,” printed under his honored signature in his September output: It is singular and yet a fact that what we are most loath to believe possessed by others is what we are incapable of ourselves. It is my wish to call the particular attention of my readers to this nugget. From a literary and philosophic standpoint literature contains nothing like it. Examine Rochefoucauld, Montaigne, Plutarch, Pliny the Elder, Pliny the Younger or Solomon, and you will not find its fellow. Read it again, and read it slowly: “It-is-singular-yet-a-fact-that-what-we-are-most-loath-to-believe- possessed-by-others-is-what-we-are-incapable-of-ourselves.” This is undoubtedly the finest thing in the language and a reward of one million dollars will be paid to any PHILISTINE who will furnish the solution. There is no bar against reading it backwards. It reads a little better backwards than forwards, but I do not think that is it. * * * * * I desire to record a discovery. I found a magazine the other day with the advertising pages uncut. * * * * * I doubt if Bliss Carman has had a more enthusiastic admirer than I. When his _Vagabondia_ appeared I sent a copy to Her, which was the greatest compliment I could pay the book. In the magazines, notably in _Town Topics_, he has printed verses that were well worth preserving as some of the best of the decade. In the great mass, however, which he has published, there have been lines which nobody on earth could understand. They were worse than Stephen Crane’s, for he at least has a vague idea somewhere, though he rarely does us the favor to express it in a seemly manner. Now I want to protest, not only against Mr. Carman, but against _Life_, which gave us _The Whale and the Sprat_ which Mr. Carman wrote recently. Here are two of the stanzas: My dear Mr. Sprat, I really am grat- Ified at your offer. So down they both sat. Said the Sprat to the Whale, I admire your tail; I should think it would be Of great use in a gale. How Mr. Metcalfe ever allowed such drivel to get into his columns I cannot understand. Possibly while he was in Japan the compositor set the stuff in the waste basket instead of that on the copy hook. * * * * *