Mr. Oscar Wylde [sic], though no longer the professed exponent of the principles of æstheticism, still keeps himself well before the public. Mr. Wylde has just published a short story [sic] entitled "Lord Arthur Savile's Crime." Of this book the critics say the writer takes neither himself, nor his tale, nor his readers seriously. "Lord Arthur Savile" is a "Bab Ballad" in prose. Two or three other stories are bound up in the same cover and none are above the average. While "'prentice hans" are advised to try short stories in the way of beginning, it is small encouragement to learn that not one short story in a hundred makes a mark. I met Mr. Oscar Wylde and his wife at a matinée last week—he still adipose and clean shaven, with an unctuous smile; she still pretty, and evidently appreciative of the distinction her husband's fame bestows upon her.