E. C. OF NEW ALBANY, IND., thinks that "Trilby's" possibilities as a vehicle of evil to the much-considered American "young person" are emphasized by a conversation recently overheard by her between two feminine "young persons" in Indiana. "What is this 'Trilby' everybody is talking about?" asked one of these. "Oh," replied the other, "it's a book--a novel." "They say it is awfully bad," said the first young person. "Yes, I've heard so; but it isn't so at all. I read it clear through, and there wasn't anything bad in it. I didn't like it either; there is too much French in it." "French?" commented the first young woman; "well that's it, then--all the bad part is in French." "I hadn't thought of that," mused the other one; "I suppose that's just the way of it. Anyway, it isn't nearly as good as 'Dally.'" [Illustration: PLATT. THE NEW SVENGALI. THE HYPNOTIZING OF MORTON. Have you read "Trilby?" Svengali was a bad, wicked man, who used to hypnotize poor, sweet little Trilby and make her sing and act as he pleased--With apologies to Du Maurier.] "Trilby" has even got into American politics. This shows better than anything else how wide an audience the story most have reached. How many allusions to a book of the current year would be comprehensible to the average reader of a New York daily paper? We reproduce the accompanying cartoon from the _World_ of Dec. 9 as a curiosity of literature and an interesting contribution to "Trilbyana." It is adapted from Mr. du Maurier's drawing entitled "Et Maintenant Dors, ma Mignonne!" * * * * * A Broadway caterer now "molds his ice-cream in the shape of a model of Trilby's ever-famous foot." Mr. du Maurier can want no greater evidence of the popularity of his story in America. That there is not a "Trilby" shoe on the market reflects little credit upon the enterprise of our bootmakers. It is an opportunity that no soap-maker would neglect if it came his way. Possibly the fact that Trilby's foot was large (as well as shapely) has something to do with the shoemakers' backwardness. Hers were not Cinderella slippers. ("The Lounger," 30 March, 1895.)