"'What we need to do,' I says in conclusion, 'is to get in line, get up to date, give the people what they want. We have no way of judgin' the future but by the past, as the feller says. We know they ain't no human bein' can measure up to our requirements, so let's take a fall out of science, and have enterprise and business sense.'" J.P. Wamsley reached for a match. "Did they accept your offer?" asked his companion. "I am anxious to know how your plan worked. It has many points in its favor, I confess." "No," replied J.P. Wamsley, as he meditatively puffed his cigar and seemed to be lovingly reviewing the past. "No, they didn't. I'm kind o' sorry, too. I'd like to have seen the thing tried myself. But," he added, with a slow and solemn wink, "they passed a unanimous resolution callin' back the old pastor at an increased salary." "I should say, then, that your invention was a success." "Well, I didn't lose out on it, anyhow. I've got John Henry rigged up with a new bunch of whiskers, and posin' in my show-window as Dewitt, signin' the peace treaty, in an elegant suit of all-wool at $11.50." THE BOHEMIANS OF BOSTON BY GELETT BURGESS The "Orchids" were as tough a crowd As Boston anywhere allowed; It was a club of wicked men-- The oldest, twelve, the youngest, ten; They drank their soda colored green, They talked of "Art," and "Philistine," They wore buff "wescoats," and their hair It used to make the waiters stare! They were so shockingly behaved And Boston thought them _so_ depraved, Policemen, stationed at the door, Would raid them every hour or more! They used to smoke (!) and laugh out loud (!) They were a very devilish crowd! They formed a Cult, far subtler, brainier, Than ordinary Anglomania, For all as Jacobites were reckoned, And gaily toasted Charles the Second! (What would the Bonnie Charlie say, If he could see that crowd to-day?) Fitz-Willieboy McFlubadub Was Regent of the Orchids' Club; A wild Bohemian was he, And spent his money fast and free. He thought no more of spending dimes On some debauch of pickled limes, Than you would think of spending nickels To buy a pint of German pickles! The Boston maiden passed him by With sidelong glances of her eye, She dared not speak (he _was_ so wild), Yet worshipped this Lotharian child. Fitz-Willieboy was so _blase_, He burned a _Transcript_ up one day! The Orchids fashioned all their style On Flubadub's infernal guile. That awful Boston oath was his-- _He_ used to 'jaculate, "Gee Whiz!" He showed them that immoral haunt, The dirty Chinese Restaurant; And there they'd find him, even when It got to be as late as ten! He ate chopped _suey_ (with a fork) You should have heard the villain talk Of one _reporter_ that he knew (!) An artist, and an actor, too!!! The Orchids went from bad to worse,