My 11, 13, 13, 9, 2, 7, 2, 3, 6, 1, 13 is a peculiar kind of stuff.

My 2, 6, 12, 8, 9, 4 is the name of a great general of ancient times
(have spelt it to best of ability, though may have missed the bull's-eye
on a letter or two, but not enough to signify).

My 3, 11, 1, 9, 15, 2, 2, 6, 2, 9, 13, 2, 6, 15, 4, 11, 2, 3, 5, 1, 10,
4, 8 is the middle name of a Russian philosopher, up whose full cognomen
fame is slowly but surely climbing.

My 7, 11, 4, 12, 3, 1, 1, 9 is an obscure but very proper kind of bug.

My whole is--but perhaps a reasonable amount of diligence and ingenuity
will reveal that.

We take a just pride in offering the customary gold pen or cheap
sewing-machine for correct solutions of the above.


THE HAPPINESS OF SIR THOMAS BROWNE
[Sidenote: _Religio Medici_]

In my solitary and retired imagination (Neque enim cum porticus, aut me
lectulus accepit, desum mihi) I remember I am not alone, and therefore
forget not to contemplate Him and His Attributes who is ever with me,
especially those two mighty ones, His Wisdom and Eternity; with the one
I recreate, with the other I confound, my understanding; for who can
speak of Eternity without a soloecism, or think thereof without an
Extasie? Time we may comprehend; 'tis but five days elder than