SO long as we have no international copyright, so long must literary talent remain a good way below par. This was the opinion of the distinguished gentlemen who met together recently to devise some means of securing the passage by Congress of an international copyright law.

The discussion of the matter was long and heated; because so many different ideas were expressed by the brilliant authors present. At last the meeting was partially restored to harmony by the serene "apostle of culture," Mr. S. Mark Arnold. "Let us not quarrel," he began; "let us look for sweetness and light; let us - But I will read you a little poem of my own that reminds me of Wordsworth somewhat. Then you will see why I should be protected." And he began, in a voice full of rare melody: -

AN IDEA.A HORSE-CAR took me to the place, -

The city o'er the Charles;

I could but think, with saddened face,

How much I owed at Carl's.

'T is gone, the bottled beer I drank;

And I can drink no more

Except you treat; for still I seem

In shekels very poor.

"Frigid! frigid! very frigid!" exclaimed our old friend Algernon Charles Swansdown. "There is no life - no warmth. But your idea is a good one, Mark. Let us all read our lucubrations; I will begin. I will take for a subject the recent license vote in Cambridge. Strew roses around me and listen!" -

A (SULPHUR) MATCH.IF votes were what my songs are,

I mean exceeding thin,

I'd be a gay repeater,