The world was never kept busier studying its geography than just at present. All quarters of the world are demanding attention. In China the Tonquin trouble has assumed such proportions that the daily papers have come out with a map of the disputed country. The Afghan difficulty has set us to locating Herat and learning how to pronounce the barbarous names; the Soudan is pinned up on everybody’s wall or tucked into their note-book; the revolution in Central America demands that we familiarize ourselves with a country we never did know much about, while the Oklahoma boomers of the West and rebellious Manitoba keep us interested enough in home affairs not to forget how our boundaries lie.
One of the most popular places in Washington during inaugural week was the National Museum. During the 2d, 3d, 4th, 5th and 6th days of March 23,000 visitors were registered. Going to the inauguration, like “goin’ to the Fourth,” is becoming an American custom. To express the peculiar habits of those who surrendered themselves to the festivities, Washingtonians say that they have gone “inaugurating,” a noun which we may be obliged to put into the dictionary if we continue to make so much of our political moultings.
A useful improvement in letter delivery is to go into effect on July 1st. A ten-cent stamp is to be provided, which, attached to a letter, entitles it to immediate delivery in all cities having 4,000 inhabitants or over, within the carrier limit of any free delivery office, or within one mile of the postoffice. It is a perfectly practical scheme, and it is apparent that there is a demand for a quicker means of communication than an uncertain and delayed letter delivery, for a class of letters which are unsuited for telegraph or telephone.
The “Bird’s-Eye View of Forestry” which appears in this issue of The Chautauquan from the pen of the Rev. S. W. Powell will be read, we trust, with attention. Mr. Powell is an authority on the subject, being corresponding secretary of the New York State Forestry Association recently organized at Utica, New York.
There is something new in bills of fare. For several seasons littérateurs have rejoiced in menus, with quotations. The “allusive” menu takes its place now. Here is a sample from a mid-Lent luncheon party in London: “Beauty draws us with a single hair” turned out to be jugged hare; “My Lord, the early village cock,” curried spring chicken; “Sing me songs of Araby,” coffee.