Mr. H.B.  Smith:  “I did not suppose that our reverend Brother Gunsaulus ever attempted poetry.  His verses have that grace and lilt that are the prime essentials to successful comic-opera libretto writing.  When I want a collaborateur, I shall know whom to apply to.”

Mr. Bristol:  “The brother’s poem indicates the influence of the Homer school.  Can it be possible that our Plymouth Church friend has fallen into the snare spread for him by the designing members of the South Side Hellenic organization?”

  Dr. Gunsaulus:  “Since Brother Bristol seems so anxious to know, I
  will admit that I have recently joined the Armour Commandery of the
  South Side Sons of Homer.”

Mr. Slason Thompson, heading off the discussion threatened by Mr. Gunsaulus’s declaration, arose and informed the company that he was prepared to confer an inestimable boon upon his brother Saints and brother Sinners.  “You are all,” said he, “victims to an exacting and fierce mania—­a madness that is unremitting in the despotism directing every thought and practice in your waking hours, and filling your brains with gilded fancies during your nocturnal periods of repose. (Applause.) Many of you are so advanced in this mania that the mania itself has become seemingly your very existence—­(cheers)—­and the feet of others are fast taking hold upon that path which leads down into the hopeless depths of this insanity. (Prolonged applause.) Hitherto bibliomania has been regarded as incurable; humanity has looked upon it as the one malady whose tortures neither salve, elixir, plaster, poultice, nor pill, can ever alleviate; it has been pronounced immedicable, immitigable, and irremediable.

“For a long time,” continued Mr. Thompson.  “I have searched for an antidote against this subtle and terrific poison of bibliomania.  At last, heaven be praised!  I have found the cure! (Great sensation.) Yes, a certain remedy for this madness is had in Keeley’s bichloride of gold bibliomania bolus, a packet of which I now hold in my hand!  Through the purging and regenerating influences of this magic antidote, it is possible for every one of you to shake off the evil with which you are cursed, and to restore that manhood which you have lost in your insane pursuit of wretched book fancies.  The treatment requires only three weeks’ time.  You take one of these boluses just before each meal and one before going to bed.  In about three days you become aware that your olfactories are losing that keenness of function which has enabled you to nose out old books and to determine the age thereof merely by sniffing at the binding.  In a week distaste for book-hunting is exhibited, and this increases until at the end of a fortnight you are ready to burn every volume you can lay hands on.  No man can take this remedy for three weeks without being wholly and permanently cured of bibliomania.  I have also another gold preparation warranted to