I know a home, where the marks of four little smutchy fingers may be seen any day on the white paint of a door, and they are treasured above the costliest ornaments in that house.

The advertisement which I see most often, whether it be of a perfume which I never use, or of a lady’s “bust-improver” which is no concern of mine, is the one which sticks in my memory.

Starring and shying at straws, with sidlings and plungings.

And, in the end, there must be a way for the developed young to leave the maternal nidus, and the intromittent canal may answer this purpose or, by chance, it may not.