POSTLUDE

The tumult and the shouting, in fact, all the wowseries and whiffle bangings of last week have faded into obscurity and Baltimore, as Boston settles down, if not to the domination's of the Society for the Prevention of Profligate Abstractions, at least to the quiet and calm which is as much a part of the town as the diversity of her minor monotonies. Genuine reflection, however does continue and prompts an occasional reference to the story of the lady whose name was not Lou and the man who sold the story on Brimstone Corner.

When one person tries to go as near as he can to the line of popular morality for the sake of publicity, and his adversary tries to go as near as he can to the line of publicity for the sake of popular morality, a question of ethics both interesting and perplexing confronts, the few thinking beings who care to enjoy their prerogative. In the present instance the judge who decided in favor of the lesser evil was undoubtedly acting both sanely and with a judicial preciseness. Better a Tartuffe dead and a harlequin living, than more moss covered morals and a reign of petty terror. Yet it is rather unfortunate that the issue could not have been more clear cut and satisfying. Wowseries are often quite as tire some as ethical sentimentalizing.