I read with unfeigned regret that the repairs which lately have been going forward in the New York postoffice will have to be abandoned until more funds accumulate in the United States Treasury. This is bad. It will leave the new elevator suspended between Heaven and earth in an unfinished condition for the Lord only knows how long. Patrons of the Federal building on Manhattan Island will therefore be obliged to patronize the two antedeluvian other on the Park Row side. And this is always attended with the keenest disappointments. For example: You go to the Broadway “lift” and find it placarded, “Not running; try the other.” You journey around to Park Row, only to be confronted with this, “Out of order; try Broadway.” Then you mount the stairs, which you ought to have done in the first place, for the reason that the man who takes passage in one of the New York postoffice elevators can have no possible idea when he will see his family again. It is said that the regular patrons of these elevators take their luncheons with them; but this imputes to them a sprightliness of motion which they do not possess. The gentleman who made the ascent to the moon by way of the horns of the Darby ram went up in January and didn’t come down till June. Persons have been known to enter these national “lifts” on the up trip in December and not get back till the Fourth of July. The several elevators in the East Aurora postoffice are of the rapid transit variety, and never stop, except when clogged with the PHILISTINE’S mail. * * * * * A woman who knows my weakness for potato salad on Sunday evenings asked me to lunch with her a few days ago. She has some boys—I don’t remember how many, and it doesn’t really matter—who make curious and totally irrelevant remarks, one to the other. Then they let drive biscuits through the air and accompany the sailing food with whoops, great and terrible. They are good boys—as children go—but wanting to know more about such matters, I bought Mr. Pater’s _Child in the House_ to present it to my cousin Anthony, who has a very new boy—his first—just to let him see what he has ahead of him. And then it wasn’t about that kind of a boy at all. I wonder why nobody except Mr. Aldrich has written a story of a really truly boy. * * * * * It is comforting to know that when a man loses his job being president he can do such things as this for the man who made Philadelphia and the _Home Journal_ and all that in them is: “In a series of popular articles ex-President Benjamin Harrison will aim to explain clearly just what this Government means and how it is conducted. He will explain the Constitution, its origin and meaning; outline the different legislative bodies; our foreign relations; the power of the President; how the House and Senate legislate, and touch upon and explain the great National questions.”