Volume 103 — THE SHORTEST DAY.

Short verse We need, Most terse Indeed, That it— This lay— May fit This day. Short sight Of sun. Long night, Begun At four, Sunshine Once more At nine. A. M. Meets eyes Of them Who rise If no Fog hide— Then woe Betide; The day That ought To stay So short A space Can't show Its face Below. But when It goes, Why then One knows New Year Will soon Be here— Then June, So bright! So sweet! So light! We'll greet The day That's long With gay, Glad song— Excessively long-footed verse will undoubtedly characterise what we say, For Longfellow's longest lines skip along when we've long longed for the Longest Day.

To various opinions the quidnuncs give voice, But the best "choice of books" means—the books of your choice.