Let us get on more quickly.  Looms ahead
Tragedy.  Let us on and have it over.

I hung with men and women on the stairs
And watched the tall white footman take the names,
And heard him shout them out, and there I shaped
My own name ready for him, “Mr. Brown.” 
And Mrs. Philby Phipp, hearing the name,
Would, I imagined, brighten suddenly
And smile and say, “How are you, Mr. Brown?”
And in an instant I’d remember her,
And where we met, and who was Mr. Phipp,
And all the jolly time at Grindelwald
(If that was where it was); and she and I
Would talk of Art and Politics and things
As we had talked these many years ago.... 
So “Mr. Brown” I murmured to the man,
And he—­the fool!—­he took a mighty breath
And shouted, “Mr. BROWNIE!”—­Brownie!  Yes,
He shouted “Mr. BROWNIE” to the roof. 
And Mrs. Philby Phipp, hearing the name,
Brightened up suddenly and smiled and said,
“How are you, Mr. Brownie?”—­(Brownie!  Lord!)
And, while my mouth was open to protest,
“How do you do?” to some one at the back. 
So I was passed along into the crowd
As Brownie!

Who on earth is Mr. Brownie? 
Did he, I wonder, he and Mrs. Phipp
Talk Art and Politics at Grindelwald,
Or did one simply point him out to her
With “That is Mr. Brownie?” Were they friends,
Dear friends, or casual acquaintances? 
She brightened at his name, some memory
Came back to her that brought a happy smile—­Why
surely they were friends!  But I am Brown,
A stranger, all unknown to Mrs. Phipp,
As she to me, a common interloper—­I
see it now—­an uninvited guest,
Whose card was clearly meant for Mr. Brownie. 
Soft music fell, and the kaleidoscope
Of lovely woman glided, swayed and turned
Beneath the shaded lights; but Mr. Brownie
(Ne Brown, not Brownie) stood upon one side
And brooded silently.  Some spoke to him;
Whether to Brown or Brownie mattered not,
He did not answer, did not notice them,
Just stood and brooded....  Then went home to bed.

A FEW TRICKS FOR CHRISTMAS

(In the manner of many contemporaries)

Now that the “festive season” (copyright) is approaching, it behoves us all to prepare ourselves in some way to contribute to the gaiety of the Christmas house-party.  A clever conjurer is welcome anywhere, and those of us whose powers of entertainment are limited to the setting of booby-traps or the arranging of apple-pie beds must view with envy the much greater tribute of laughter and applause which is the lot of the prestidigitator with some natural gift for legerdemain.  Fortunately there are a few simple conjuring tricks which are within the reach of us all.  With practice even the clumsiest of us can obtain sufficient dexterity in the art of illusion to puzzle the most observant of our fellow-guests.  The few simple tricks which I am about to explain, if studied diligently for a few days before Christmas, will make a genuine addition to the gaiety of any gathering, and the amateur prestidigitator (if I may use that word again) will find that he is amply repaying the hospitality of his host and hostess by his contribution to the general festivity.