There Is A Soul-jealousy That Can Be

And Once Again Mr. Sherlock Holmes Is Free To Devote His Life To Examining Those Interesting Little Problems Which The Complexity Of Human Life So Pletifuly Presents.

Picnics Are Very Dear To Those Who Are In The First Stage Of The Tender Passion.

The Devil’s Agents May Be Of Flesh And Blood, May They Not?

You Know How Often The Turning Down This Street Or That, The Accepting Or Rejecting Of An Invitation, May Deflect The Whole Current Of Our Lives Into Some Other Channel. Are We Mere Leaves, Fluttered Hither And Thither By The Wind, Or Are We Rather, With Every Conviction That We Are Free Agents, Carried Steadily Along To A Definite And Pre-determined End?

Just As An Octopus May Have His Den In Some Ocean Cave, And Come Floating Out A Silent Image Of Horror To Attack A Swimmer, So I Picture Such A Spirit Lurking In The Dark Of The House Which He Curses By His Presence, And Ready To Float Out Upon All Whom He Can Injure.