It would have been a very enjoyable ride altogether, that evening's spin along the banks of the Rhine, if I had not been haunted at the time by the idea that I should have to write an account of it next day in my diary.


Chivalrous Heinrich returns, and is wild that his brother C. has not married the beautiful H. It does not occur to him to marry the girl even then.


As it was, I enjoyed it as a man enjoys a dinner when he has got to make a speech after it, or as a critic enjoys a play.


Whenever a German railway guard feels lonesome, and does not know what else to do with himself, he takes a walk round the train, and gets the passengers to show him their tickets, after which he returns to his box cheered and refreshed.


In the course of less than half a minute we counted fourteen persons sitting down in the middle of the road. Eight of them were cursing the goat, four were cursing the dog, and two of them were cursing the old man for keeping the goat, one of these two, and the more violent one, being the man's own wife.


Nearly all the German railway officials have this same craving for tickets. If only they get somebody to show them a railway ticket, they are happy. It seemed a harmless weakness of theirs, and B. and I decided that it would be only kind to humour them in it during our stay.


Conrad considers over the matter for a year or two, and then _he_ decides that he won't marry her either, but will leave her for his brother Heinrich, and _he_ goes off to the Crusades, from whence he returns, a few years later on, with a Grecian bride.


Away went the goat, at his end of the rope, and, with him, the dog at the other end.


But the goat's movements were too erratic for him. His turn came, and he trod on the rope, and went down in the middle of the road, opposite his own door, with a thud that shook us all up against each other as we stood looking out of the carriage window, and sat there and cursed the goat.


Talk about Albert Durer. Criticise his style. Say it's flat. (If possible, find out if it _is_ flat.)


We put a deal of pepper and salt on it to try and counteract the flavour of the sweets, but we did not really enjoy it even then.


We gentlefolks only play at living. We have our rules and regulations for the game, which must not be infringed. Our unwritten guide books direct us what to do and what to say at each turn of the meaningless sport.


Finding it utterly hopeless to explain ourselves to the waiter, we let the thing go, and trusted to Providence; and in about ten minutes the man brought us a steaming omelette, with about a pound of strawberry jam inside, and powdered sugar all over the outside.


There was plenty of oil and vinegar, and pepper and salt and mustard in the list, but nothing to put them on.


I have seen the bad man in a ballet convey to the _premiere danseuse_ by a subtle movement of the left leg, together with some slight assistance from the drum, the heartrending intelligence that the lady she had been brought up to believe was her mother was in reality only her aunt by marriage.


What the red paint was for, I could not understand. B. thought that it was put there for suicidal purposes. His idea was that the customer, after eating all the other things in the plate, would wish he were dead, and that the restaurant people, knowing this, had thoughtfully provided him with red paint for one, so that he could poison himself off and get out of his misery.


I mention that we had dinner, not because I think that the information will prove exciting to the reader, but because I wish to warn my countrymen, travelling in Germany, against undue indulgence in Liptauer cheese.


I am fond of cheese, and of trying new varieties of cheese; so that when I looked down the cheese department of the bill of fare, and came across "liptauer garnit," an article of diet I had never before heard of, I determined to sample it.


If there is one train out of forty that goes on "Saturdays only" to some place I want to get to, that is the train I select to travel by on a Friday. On Saturday morning I get up at six, swallow a hasty breakfast, and rush off to catch a return train that goes on every day in the week "except Saturdays."


The Count then went abroad to try and make, or at all events improve, his fortune. He went to America, and there he prospered. In a year or two he came back, tolerably rich  to find, however, that he was too late. His lady, persuaded of his death, had been urged into a marriage with a rich somebody else.


A Curious Dish.  "A Feeling of Sadness Comes O'er Me."  The German Cigar.  The Handsomest Match in Europe.


After the second of the month, I never see either of them again. What their fate is, I can only guess.


Under ordinary circumstances I should have been afraid that such a supper would cause me to be more eager for change and movement during the ensuing six hours than for sleep; but I felt that to night it would take a dozen half baked firebricks to keep me awake five seconds after I had got my head on the pillow  or what they call a pillow in Germany; and so, without hesitation, I made a very satisfactory meal.


I do not mean a sainted face, suggestive of stained glass and marble tombs, but a rugged human face that has had the grit, and rain, and sunshine of life rubbed into it, and that has gained its expression, not by looking up with longing at the stars, but by looking down with eyes full of laughter and love at the human things around it."


Before each performance all the characters gather together on the stage around their pastor, and, kneeling, pray for a blessing upon the work then about to commence.


The Story that Transformed the World.


Never has the voice of any actress (and I have seen some of the greatest, if any great ones are living) stirred my heart as did the voice of Rosa Lang, the Burgomaster's daughter. It was not the voice of one woman, it was the voice of Motherdom, gathered together from all the world over.


"They saw the high priests in their robes of white, with the rabbis and doctors, all the great and learned in the land, sitting late into the night beneath the vaulted roof of the Sanhedrin's council hall, plotting his death.


"Poor Mary! To others he is the Christ, the Saviour of mankind, setting forth upon his mighty mission to redeem the world.


We cry out in horror against Judas. Let us pray rather that we are never tempted to do a shameful action for a few pieces of silver. The fear of poverty ever did, and ever will, make scamps of men. We would like to be faithful, and noble, and just, only really times are so bad that we cannot afford it!


"They are real actors, all of them," murmurs B. enthusiastically, "the whole village full; and they all live happily together in one small valley, and never try to kill each other. It is marvellous!"


We had our dinner at a beer garden the day before yesterday. We thought it would be pleasant to eat and drink to the accompaniment of music, but we found that in practice this was not so. To dine successfully to music needs a very strong digestion  especially in Bavaria.


We kept our mugs shut after that.


Now we use picture galleries to practise spurts in. I did a hundred yards this morning through the old Pantechnicon in twenty two and a half seconds, which, for fair heel and toe walking, I consider very creditable. B. took five eighths of a second longer for the same distance; but then he dawdled to look at a Raphael.


"Ah, yes," she explains pathetically; "but then I think you want more beer. Gentlemen always open their mugs when they want them filled with beer." We kept our mugs shut after that.


The German beer garden should be visited by everyone who would see the German people as well as their churches and castles. It is here that the workers of all kinds congregate in the evening.


B. said he thought that the explanation was that the ancient patrons of art were gentry with a very strong idea of the fitness of things. For "their churches and cathedrals," said B., "they had painted all those virgins and martyrs and over fed angels that you see everywhere about Europe.


They were grumbling the whole of the way at having been put to ride in an omnibus. It seemed that they had never been so insulted in their lives before, and they took care to let everybody in the vehicle know that they had paid for first class, and that at home they kept their own carriage.


B. one day after dinner called it the "Penny Cock," and then we both got frightened, and agreed to fix up some sensible, practical name for it before any mischief was done.


To be gushingly fawning to those above them, and vulgarly insolent to everyone they consider below them, is their idea of the way to hold and improve their position, whatever it may be, in society; and to be brutally indifferent to the rights and feelings of everybody else in the world is, in their opinion, the hall mark of gentle birth.


The eight mark and six mark places are every bit as good as the ten mark seats, of which there are only a very limited number; but you are grossly insulted if it is hinted that you should sit in anything but the dearest chairs. If the villagers would only be sensible and charge you ten marks for the eight mark places you would be happy; but they won't."


The English Woman Abroad.  And at Home.  The Ugliest Cathedral in Europe.


The Ugliest Cathedral in Europe.  Old Masters and New.  Victual and Drink Scapes.  The German Band.  A "Beer Garden."  Not the Women to Turn a Man's Head.  Difficulty of Dining to Music.


We passed the German frontier on Wednesday, and have been in Belgium since. I like the Germans. B. says I ought not to let them know this, because it will make them conceited; but I have no fear of such a result. I am sure they possess too much common sense for their heads to be turned by praise, no matter from whom.


"Gets to Heidelberg at 4?" I exclaim. "Does the whole distance in two and a quarter hours? Why, we were all night coming down!"


At last B. makes the discovery that to get to Heidelberg we must go to Darmstadt and take another train from there.


Cologne, Antwerp, Calais? Well, where does it stop? Confound it! it must stop somewhere. Berlin, Paris, Brussels, Copenhagen? No.


Our first thoughts are the thoughts that are given to us; our second thoughts are the thoughts that we make for ourselves. I prefer to trust to the former.


Notice boards are exhibited outside the hotels to the effect that the police have strict orders to take into custody anybody found trespassing upon or damaging the premises.


He can conduct himself sensibly without making an ass of himself. He can be "temperate" without tying bits of coloured ribbon all about himself to advertise the fact, and without rushing up and down the street waving a banner and yelling about it.


The second guard has gone down into the town to try and sell a dog, and the passengers stroll about the platform and smoke, or partake of a light meal in the refreshment room  the poorer classes regaling themselves upon hot sausage, and the more dainty upon soup.


We were a good deal alarmed. We could not imagine how he came there. The weather is too fine for shipwrecks, and it was not a part of the coast where any passing trader would be likely to land. Besides, if anyone has landed, where is he? We have been able to find no trace of him whatever.


"Oh, ah, yes," he replies. "I never noticed that. Yes, of course. No! it can't be that either. Why, that would make the journey fourteen hours. It can't take fourteen hours. No, of course not. That's not meant for thick type, that 4. That's thin type got a little thick, that's all."


They do not laugh much; but when they do, they laugh deep down. They are slow, but so is a deep river. A placid look generally rests upon their heavy features; but sometimes they frown, and then they look somewhat grim.


They would twirl the sheet gracefully round their head, draw it lightly across their back, twist it in waving folds round their legs, wrap themselves for a moment in its whirling maze, and then lightly skip away from it, dry and smiling.


So are and have been many great philosophers, as [4547]Gregory Nazianzen observes, deformed most part in that which is to be seen with the eyes, but most elegant in that which is not to be seen. Saepe sub attrita latitat sapientia veste.


In another place, [4579]speaking of an epigram which Martial had composed in praise of him, [4580]He gave me as much as he might, and would have done more if he could: though what can a man give more than honour, glory, and eternity?


A third cause of love and hate, may be mutual offices, acceptum beneficium, [4535]commend him, use him kindly, take his part in a quarrel, relieve him in his misery, thou winnest him for ever; do the opposite, and be sure of a perpetual enemy.


And as St. Austin comments on the 84th Psalm, [4559]there is a peculiar beauty of justice, and inward beauty, which we see with the eyes of our hearts, love, and are enamoured with, as in martyrs, though their bodies be torn in pieces with wild beasts, yet this beauty shines, and we love their virtues.


Thomas in Psal. xliv. of both; and so doth Baradius and Peter Morales, lib de pulchritud. Jesu et Mariae, adding as much of Joseph and the Virgin Mary,—haec alias forma praecesserit omnes, [4566]according to that prediction of Sibylla Cumea.


Titus Pomponius Atticus, that noble citizen of Rome, was so fair conditioned, of so sweet a carriage, that he was generally beloved of all good men, of Caesar, Pompey, Antony, Tully, of divers sects, &c.


as so many Sejani, they will come down to the Gemonian scales; and as Eusebius in [4585] Ammianus, that was in such authority, ad jubendum Imperatorem, be cast down headlong on a sudden.


Wine is strong, the king is strong, women are strong, but truth overcometh all things, Esd.


Antistes sapientiae, perpetuus dictator, literarum ornamentum, Europae miraculum, noble Scaliger, [4537] incredibilis ingenii praestantia, &c., diis potius quam hominibus per omnia comparandus, scripta ejus aurea ancylia de coelo delapsa poplitibus veneramur flexis, &c.


All pleasant things Atrides doth adorn ; The merry genius smiled when he was born.* And they compute this happiness from his great stores of ammunition, his variety of managed horses, and his bat  talions of disciplined men.


For instance, doth it trouble thee that thou wantest children] Consider that kings of the Romans have died Avithout them, — had kingdoms to leave, but no heirs.


J And he himself complains of it, being mightily dis  turbed, after this manner : — I live an idle burden to the ground.


Thus, as chil  dren, if you rob them of one of their play games, will throw away the rest, and cry and scream ; so, if Fortune infest us only in one part, we grow fearful and abandon ourselves wholly to her attacks.


The pleading lawyer's happy at the bar ; But the scene openmg shows a civil war. For the good man hath a domestic strife, He's slave to that imperious creature, wife. Scolding without doors doth to him belong, But she within them doth claim all the tongue.


Antipater of Tar  sus, when he Avas upon his death bed and reckoning up all the good events which had befallen him, Avould not omit a prosperous voyage Avhich he had AA'hen he sailed from Cilicia to Athens. Even the trite and common blessings are not to be despised, but ought to take up a room in our deliberations.


It the luxurious liver doth infest. And robs the man of honor of his rest ; In stricter ties doth with the poor engage, With him grows old to a decrepit age.


But most men, as Arcesi  laus observed, think they must be critics upon other men's poems, survey their pictures with a curious eye, and examine their statues with all the delicacy of sculpture, but in the meanwhile transiently pass over their own lives, though there be some things in them which will not only detain but please their consideration.


But they will not restrain the prospect to themselves, but are perpetually looking abroad, and so become servile admirers of other men's fortune and reputation ; as adulterers are always gloating upon other men's wives and contemning their own.


But thou seemest to me to be especially concerned with affairs of this nature ; for, like the physicians mentioned by Sophocles, — Who bitter clioler cleanse and scour With drugs as bitter and as sour, — thou dost let other men's enormities sour thy blood ; which is highly irrational.


2. Besides, he that affirmed that whosoever would enjoy tranquillity of mind must disengage himself from all private and public concerns, would make us pay dear for our tranquillity by buying it with idleness ; as if he should prescribe thus to a sick man : — Lie still, poor wretch, and keep thy bed.* * Eurip. Orestes, 258. i;i8 Of THE TRANQUILLITY OF THE MIND.


But as to men \vho live without measures and with no prudence, like those whose constitution is so sickly and infirm that they are equally impatient both of heats and colds, pros  perity exalts them above their temper, and adversity dejects them beneath it ; indeed each fortune disturbs them, or rather they raise up storms to themselves in either, and they are especially querulous under good circumstances.


And I congratulate that bravery of temper in you, that though you are admitted into the confidence of princes, and have obtained so great a vogue of eloquence at the bar that no man hath exceeded you, you have not, like the tragic Μ crops, suffered yourself to be puffed up with the applause of the multitude, and transported beyond those bounds Avhich are prescribed to OF THE TRANQUILLITY OF THE MIND.


Whereas in fact, as Hesiod expresseth it,— The virgins' tender limbs are kept from cold ; Not the least wind to touch tliem is so bold ; * but nevertheless we see that grief and troubles and discontentments, arising from jealousy or superstition or vain opinions, flow as it were with a torrent into the apart  ments of the females.


deploring his unhappiness, but he walks abroad publicly with an honest assurance.


This deadens the fruition, and makes the pleasure as weak and unstable as flame driven by the wind.


And it is our bodies only that lie exposed to this destiny, and which we offer (as it Avere) as a handle to Fortune ; but the fort royal is still secure, where our strength lies and our most precious things are treas  ured up.


But he who considers the nature of the soul, and that death will transport it to a condition either far better or not much Λvorse than what he now enjoys, hath contempt of death to sustain him as he travelleth on in this pilgrimage of his life, no small viaticum towards tranquillity of mind.


Nay, as those of Olynthus carry beetles into a certain place, which from the destruction of them is called their slaughter house, Λvhere, all passages being stopped against their escape, they are 158 OF THE TRANQUILLITY OF THE MIND.


I am not surprised, then, that for these many ages there have been invented almost innumerable varieties of artificial wines, of which I shall now make some mention ; they are all of them employed for medicinal purposes.


Such is the statement made by Varro.


Such is the statement made by Varro. (15.) And besides, is it not a well known fact that Caesar, when Dictator, at the banquet given on the occasion of his triumph, allotted to each table an amphora of Falernian and a cadus of Chian


253 economy manifested at Eome in the use of this article.


Tergilla reproaches Cicero, the son of Marcus Cicero, with being in the habit of taking off a couple of congii at a single draught, and with having thrown a cup, when in a state of drunkenness, at M. Agrippa ;n such, in fact, being the ordinary results of intoxication.


The various methods of keeping and storing wines in the cellar are very different. In the vicinity of the Alps, they put their wines in wooden vessels hooped around ;48 during their cold winters, they even keep lighted fires, to protect the wines from the effects of the cold.


Thus we see wines quaffed out of impurities, and inebriety invited even by the hope of a reward, — invited, did I say ? —  may the gods forgive me for saying so, purchased outright.


Then on the next day there is the breath reeking of the wine cask, and a nearly total obliviousness of everything, from the annihilation of the powers of the memory.


It is a proof that wine is beginning to turn bad, if a plate of lead, on being put in it, changes its colour.46 CHAP. 26. VINEGAR LEES OF WINE.


269 The following are among the rules given for the proper management of wines : — One side of the wine cellar, or, at all events, the windows, ought to face the north east, or at least due east.


From wine, too, comes that pallid hue,56 those drooping eyelids, those sore eyes, those tremulous hands, unable to hold with steadiness the over  flowing vessel, condign punishment in the shape of sleep agi  tated by Furies during the restless night, and, the supreme reward of inebriety, those dreams of monstrous lustfulness and of forbidden delights.


ME: But people like that, so hostile to genius, all pretend to have some.


As he was saying this, he moved over and lay gently on a bench. He closed his eyes and imitated the happy sleep he'd just imagined. After having enjoyed this relaxed repose for a few moments, he woke up, stretched his arms, yawned, rubbed his eyes, and looked around him for any dull admirers still there.


If you throw cold water on Greuze's head, perhaps you will extinguish his talent along with his vanity. If you make Voltaire less sensitive to criticism, he will not know how to descend into the soul of Merope. He will no longer move you.


HIM: That's a great help to Socrates! Does that make him any less condemned, any less put to death?


HIM: Something I'll never put behind me. ME: But I've seen the time when you were desperate to be anything but an ordinary person. You'll never be happy if the arguments for and against affect you equally. You have to pick a side and stick to it.


ME: What you've just said is infinitely truer than you think. HIM: There you go, you others!


He buried the Florentine but will now be buried by Italian virtuosi, a fact which he saw coming and which made him gloomy, sad, and surly.


In the morning there are still bits of his mattress in his hair. If the season is mild, he paces all night along the Cours or the Champs Élysées. He reappears in town with the dawn, dressed up for today in yesterday's clothes, and dressed up today perhaps for the rest of the week.


For one can be an intelligent man and a great chess player, like Legal, but one can also be a great chess player and a fool, like Foubert and Mayot.


You were curious to know this man's name, and now you do.


ME: I don't go out very much, and you're going to exhaust yourself to no purpose.


HIM: That would be difficult. ME: I agree.


Instead of a soft and peaceful sleep, as you used to have, you'll be listening with one ear to the neighing and stomping of horses and with the other to a sound a thousand times more unbearable  dry, hard, and barbarous verse. Miserable, stupid fool, possessed by a million devils!


She reads. 'A meeting. That's impossible.' 'Perhaps when you are going to mass.' 'Mamma always comes with me. But if he came here early in the morning. I get up first, and I'm at the counter before they get up.'


But what bothers me today is not that I sleep and snore meanly like someone destitute. ME: But that's sad. HIM: What's happened to me is much worse. ME: So what is it?


To rot under marble or to rot under the earth  it's still rotting. To have around your coffin choirboys in red and choirboys in blue or none at all  what does that matter?


ME: That's odd. Up to the present I believed that people hid them from themselves or forgave them in themselves and condemned them in other people. HIM: Hide them from oneself  is that possible? Rest assured that when Palissot is alone and reflects on himself, he tells himself something different.


HIM: No music? ME: If there was a good teacher of harmony, I would willingly entrust her to him for two hours a day for one or two years, no more.


HIM: Exactly. ME: I learned by teaching others, and I produced some good students.


HIM: But you'll no longer be going to the Luxembourg in summer. You remember... ME: Drop that subject. Yes, I do remember. HIM: In a gray plush frock coat. ME: Yes, yes.


ME: I understand. Fontenelle speaks well and writes well, although his style is crawling with French idioms.


ME: But perhaps I don't worry very much about putting into the plan for her education a study which is so time consuming and which is so little use. HIM: And what are you intending to teach her? Please tell me.


ME: Idioms. HIM: That's it. Well, every profession has its exceptions to the general conscience. I'm happy to call these trade idioms.


ME: Taking care of the education of one's children? HIM: Vanity. That's the business of a tutor. ME: But if this tutor has fully absorbed your principles and neglects his duties, who's going to be punished for it?


ME: Your eyes are admirable.


However, the man with a good reputation doesn't have a golden belt, but I see that nowadays the man with the golden belt rarely lacks a good reputation. It's necessary, as much as possible to have the good reputation and the belt.


There you have it  that's what people used to call a lesson in accompaniment in those days. ME: And nowadays, it's something different. HIM: My God, I should think so. I arrive. I'm serious.


HIM: No, no. Ask the cobble stones. They'll tell you about those things. You must profit from the circumstances which have brought us together to learn those things which no one knows except me.


Rameau has to be what he is  a happy thief among wealthy thieves, and not a virtuous swaggerer or even a virtuous man, gnawing his crust of bread by himself or among beggars. To sum up  I won't put up with your idea of happiness or the well being of a few visionaries like you.


ME: But what good is this talent? HIM: You can't guess?


HIM: The problem is that this devil of a feeling is all inside and no glimmer of it reaches the outside. But as for me  the one talking to you  I know, and know well, that she has some.


ME: Your dignity makes me laugh. HIM: Everyone has his own. I'm happy to forget mine, but at my own discretion, and not on someone else's orders.


Virtue makes itself respected, and respect is uncomfortable. Virtue makes itself admired, and admiration is not amusing.


If it so happens that the jaws open, it's to utter a distressing word, a word which informs you that you've not even been noticed and that all your monkey tricks have been wasted. This word is a response to a question you asked him four days ago. Once the word has been uttered, the mastoid spring is released, and the jaws snap shut.


Take that Chevalier de la Morlière, who turns up his hat above his ears, who holds his head in the air, who looks at you over his shoulder as you go by, who has a long sword banging against his thigh, who has an insult ready for anyone who doesn't carry one, and who seems to be issuing a challenge to everyone coming along. What's he doing?


ME: You're not one of those people, are you? HIM: Why not?


HIM: Well, that's the good side. That's the profit. But what about the charges  you don't say a word about those.


I'm an inexhaustible sack of impertinence. At every moment I had a joke which made people laugh until they cried. For them I was an entire house of idiots. ME: So that's why you had table, bed, coat, vest, trousers, shoes, and a small allowance.


Previously Mademoiselle had vapours. Now it's nerves. I'm not mentioning the other slight indispositions which no one bothered about in front of me. Those were all right. I've never believed in too much formality. I've read, I don't know where, that a prince known as The Great used to rest sometimes leaning against the back of his mistress's toilet commode.


He appeared on our horizon for the first time yesterday. He arrived at the hour which drives us all out of our hide outs  dinner time. When the weather is bad, anyone among us who has a twenty four sou coin in his pocket for cab fare is a happy man.


Once he's had his coffee, he throws himself into an armchair, rests his feet against the shelf by the chimney, and goes to sleep like an old parrot on its perch. If the noise gets violent, he yawns, stretches his arms, rubs his eyes, and says, "All right, what's up What is it?"


All those who were seated to the right and to the left of the abbé and whom he had moved down one notch began to laugh. So everyone was laughing except Monsieur who was irritated and went at me with things which wouldn't have mattered at all if we'd been alone: "Rameau you're an impudent man." "I know that  that's why you receive me here." "A scoundrel."


Palissot did his duty, and it's Abbé Rey who is in the wrong. The bookseller David cries out because his associate Palissot has slept with or wanted to sleep with his wife. The wife of the bookseller David cries out that Palissot has told anyone willing to listen that he has slept with her.


So it's not Palissot but Helvetius who's in the wrong. If one takes a young man from the provinces to the zoo at Versailles and his foolishness persuades him to stick his hand through the bars of the tiger's or panther's cage, and if the young man leaves his arm behind in the throat of the ferocious animal, who's in the wrong?


ME: That's true, but why show me all your nastiness? HIM: Well, first because you know a good deal about it already, and I saw that there's more to win than to lose by confessing the rest to you.


HIM: And this difficulty?


Bouret, in my view, is the greatest man in the world. ME: But immediately after Bouret, there's you. HIM: No.


He began to get worked up and to sing very softly. As he grew even more impassioned, he raised his voice, and then there followed gestures, facial grimaces, and bodily contortions. I say, "All right, there he is off his head, getting some new scene ready."


There is no fine tune from which one cannot make a fine recitative, and no fine recitative from which a expert cannot derive a fine tune.


It's impossible to have no ungrateful people when we expose men to the temptation of being ungrateful with impunity.


In these works there are all sorts of characters, an infinite variety of declamations. That's sublime  I'm the one telling you this. Go on, go on and listen to the piece where the young man who feels himself dying, cries out, Mon coeur s'en va. Listen to the song.


ME: I speak badly. I only know how to speak the truth, and that's not always welcome, as you know.


HIM: Well then, he'll go without, like plenty of other people. In everything he said there were so many things one thinks about and acts upon but which one does not say.


The straightforward language and common voice of passion are all the more necessary for us because our language is more monotonous and less stressed. The cry of an animal or a man in passion will provide them.


ME: One could do no better. What if it happens one day that, deeply impressed with the value of the louis... HIM: I see where you're going. One has to close one's eyes to that.. There is no principle of morality which doesn't have some inconvenience.


While he uttered these words, he made all sorts of faces  disgust, disdain, irony  and he seemed to be kneading in his fingers a piece of dough and smiling at the ridiculous shapes he made with it.


As he was singing snatches from Lamentations by Jomelli, he brought out the most beautiful parts of each piece with precision, truth, and an incredible warmth. That beautiful recitative in which the prophet describes the desolation of Jerusalem he bathed in a flood of tears which brought tears to everyone's eyes.


And for that, one shouldn't be stupid, like most fathers who give a Spartan education to a child destined to live in Paris. They couldn't do any worse if they were intending to make their children unhappy. If education is poor, it's the fault of my country's customs, not mine.


How far we've come since the time when we used to point to the parenthetical comments in Armide   "The conqueror of Renaud, if anyone can be"  or "Obey, don't hesitate" from Indes galantes  as amazing moments of musical expression!


I myself once heard the following conversation between some sort of patron and a kind of protégé. The latter had been recommended to the former as a pleasant man who could be of service to him.


ME: Whatever a man devotes himself to, nature has destined him for that.


ME: From grief? HIM: If you like. But the real reason is to have my bowl on my head....But look at the time. I have to go to the opera.


HIM: Under the leaky barrel. The man was a rich Jew who was happy to splash his money around. He liked music and my silly jokes. I played music  just the way that made God happy  and I played the fool. I didn't lack anything.


Then he began shaking his head and hitting his forehead again even more firmly, saying, "Either no one is in there or they won't answer."


HIM: No, no I'm telling you. I'm too heavy to raise myself so high.


"From you." "Is it for a loan?" "No." "Is it for the sale of merchandise?" "No."


The men who followed her, who watched her mincing along on her small feet and measured that large rump whose shape was outlined by her thin petticoats, walked more quickly. She'd let them come up. Then she'd turn around suddenly confronting them with her two large, black, shining eyes.


We'd arrive. She's sing. She'd rise to the occasion and knock them out. Alas, I lost her, the poor little thing.


Here he is leaving his father the apothecary. Here he is arriving in the capital, looking for his uncle's residence. Here he is on his knees before his uncle, who is chasing him away. Here he is with a Jew," and so on and so on. The next day, I'd get up firmly resolved to join up with the street singers.


ME: Under the leaky barrel. HIM: Under the leaky barrel.


ME: I know these methods. You've told me about them, and I admired them a lot.


But I have lived, in the last five years, to see that this mood was false. It is now clear that steady work in the exposure of what is evil, whatever forces are brought to bear against that exposure, bears fruit.


In other words, they differ entirely in religion which is the ultimate spring of all political action. There is perhaps no single problem of any importance in private or in public morals which the one would not attempt to solve in a fashion different from, and usually antagonistic to, the other.


_October 14, 1917._ MY DEAR ORAGE, I dedicate this little essay to you not only because "The New Age" (which is your paper) published it in its original form, but much more because you were, I think, the pioneer, in its modern form at any rate, of the Free Press in this country.


These things appeared first of all in England, because England was the only province of Europe wherein the old Latin tradition ran side by side with the novel effects of protestantism.


An honest and sober man tells us that the roof of the house fell in. An imaginative fool, who is also a swindler, assures us that he later saw the roof standing. We remember that the roof was of iron girders covered with wood, and draw this conclusion: That the framework still stands, but that the healing fell through in a mass of blazing rubbish.


It became a more and more tempting venture to "start a newspaper," but at the same time, the development of capitalism made that venture more and more hazardous. It was more and more of a risky venture to start a new great paper even of a local sort, for the expense got greater and greater, and the loss, if you failed, more and more rapid and serious.


It, therefore, could be profitably produced at a cost greater than its selling price. Advertisement revenue made it possible for a man to print a paper at a cost of 2d.


We must not exaggerate this element. For one thing the power represented by the great Capitalist Press was a power equal with that of the great advertisers.


In the first place, if advertisement had come to be the stand by of a newspaper, the Capitalist owning the sheet would necessarily consider his revenue from advertisement before anything else. He was indeed _compelled_ to do so unless he had enormous revenues from other sources, and ran his paper as a luxury costing a vast fortune a year.


A newspaper can manufacture interest, but there are certain broad currents in human affairs which neither a newspaper proprietor nor any other human being can control. If England is at war no newspaper can boycott war news and live. If London were devastated by an earthquake no advertising power in the Insurance Companies nor any private interest of newspaper owners in real estate could prevent the thing "getting into the newspapers."


My point is, then, that the idea of the Press as "an organ of public opinion," that is, "an expression of the general thought and will," is not _only_ hypocritical, though it is _mainly_ so. There is still something in the claim. A generation ago there was more, and a couple of generations ago there was more still.


But it was too much for them. They were swept off their feet. There were great meetings in the North country which almost approached the dignity of popular action, and the Press at last not only took up the question for discussion, but apparently permitted itself a certain timid support.


It was actively discussed. The little flash in the pan of Chinese Labour was, I think, even more remarkable.


We cannot even say that the professional politicians are still made to "fill the stage." That metaphor is false, because upon a stage the audience knows that it is all play acting, and actually _sees_ the figures.


But the substitute has only been a putting of them into the limelight in another and more grotesque fashion, far less dignified, and quite equally false.


On the contrary, it deliberately side tracks any vital discussion that sincere conviction may have forced upon the public, and spoils the scent with false issues. One paper, not a little while ago, was clamouring against the excess of lawyers in Government. Its remedy was an opposition to be headed by a lawyer.


With this I pass from the just denunciation of evil to the exposition of what is good.


But they only do so, as do all new powers, by at once alliance with, and treason against, the old: witness Harmsworth and the politicians. The new governing Press is an oligarchy which still works "in with" the just less new parliamentary oligarchy.


* * * * * Now to every human evil of a political sort that has appeared in history (to every evil, that is, affecting the State, and proceeding from the will of man  not from ungovernable natural forces outside man) there comes a term and a reaction.


Above all, it gives immense and _irresponsible_ power to a handful of wealthy men  and especially to the one most wealthy and unscrupulous among them  whose wealth is an accident of speculation, whose origins are repulsive, and whose characters have, as a rule, the weakness and baseness developed by this sort of adventures.


The chief of these men are more powerful to day than any Minister. Nay, they do, as I have said (and it is now notorious), make and unmake Ministers, and they may yet in our worst hour decide the national fate.


We may take it, then, that Propaganda was, in order of time, the first motive of the Free Press and the first cause of its production.


Men came across very little of this in England, because England was for long virtually homogeneous in religion, and that religion was not enthusiastic during the years in which the Free Press arose.


This same motive of Propaganda later launched other papers in defence of enthusiasms other than strictly religious enthusiasms, and the most important of these was the enthusiasm for Collectivism  Socialism.


That is, of course, in plain English, putting land, houses, and machinery, and stores of food and clothing into the hands of the politicians for control in use and for distribution in consumption.


Wherever I go, my first object, if I wish to find out the truth, is to get hold of the Free Press in France as in England, and even in America. But I know that wherever I get hold of such an organ it will be very strongly coloured with the opinion, or even fanaticism, of some minority.


Let us consider first the main four points. When we have examined them all we shall see against what forces, and in spite of what negative factors, the Free Press has established itself to day.


One need not be in Parliament many days to discover that most laws are made and all revised by members of this Guild. Parliament is, as a drafting body, virtually a Committee of Lawyers who are indifferent to the figment of representation which still clings to the House of Commons.


It is difficult, to see how any of the papers I have named would long survive a loss of their present editorship. There might possibly be one successor; there certainly would not be two; and the result is that the effect of these organs is sporadic and irregular. In the same connection you have the disability of a restricted audience.


The boycott is deliberate, and is persistently maintained. The effect is that the Free Press cannot give in space and quality of paper, excellence of distribution, and the rest, what the Official Press can give; for it lacks advertisement subsidy. This is a very grave economic handicap indeed.


"The New Age" looked at it from quite another point of view than that of the "New Witness," and the specifically Socialist Free Press pointed it out as no more than an example of what happens under Capitalist Government. A Mahommedan paper would no doubt have called it a result of the Nazarene religion, and a Thug paper an awful example of what happens when your politicians are not Thugs.


Take the Marconi case. The big official papers first boycotted it for months, and then told a pack of silly lies in support of the politicians. The Free Press gave one the truth but its various organs gave the truth for very different reasons and with very different impressions.


The old idea of the lawyer on the Bench protecting the subject against the arbitrary power of the executive, of the judge independent of the government, has nearly disappeared.


A special juryman, for instance, that should stand out against the political verdict desired would be a marked man.


The defence of the man so accused must either be undertaken by a Member of the Legal Guild  in which case the advocate's own future depends upon his supporting the interests of the politicians and so betraying his client  or, if some eccentric undertakes his own defence, the whole power of the Guild will be turned against him under forms of liberty which are no longer even hypocritical.


I knew from intimate personal experience exactly how formidable all these obstacles were. I knew how my own paper could not but appear particular and personal, and could not but suffer from that eccentricity to general opinion of which I have spoken.


I knew how my own paper could not but appear particular and personal, and could not but suffer from that eccentricity to general opinion of which I have spoken. I had a half tragic and half comic experience of the economic difficulty; of the difficulty of obtaining information; of the difficulty in distribution, and all the rest of it.


"C" is frankly contemptuous of the new note. He has sunk into the groove of old age. Now let twenty years pass, and things will have changed in this fashion.


We are all witnesses to this phenomenon in the realm of literature. I believe that the same thing goes on with even more force in the realm of political ideas.


It may come; but all the evidence is the other way. And as for a general public indignation against corrupt government, there is (below the few in the know who either share the swag or shrug their shoulders) no sign that it will be strong enough to have any effect.


The "portfolios" were found, shortly after Emily Dickinson's death, by her sister and only surviving housemate. Most of the poems had been carefully copied on sheets of note paper, and tied in little fascicules, each of six or eight sheets. While many of them bear evidence of having been thrown off at white heat, still more had received thoughtful revision.


There is the frequent addition of rather perplexing foot notes, affording large choice of words and phrases. And in the copies which she sent to friends, sometimes one form, sometimes another, is found to have been used.


X. ESCAPE. I never hear the word "escape" Without a quicker blood, A sudden expectation, A flying attitude. I never hear of prisons broad By soldiers battered down, But I tug childish at my bars,    Only to fail again!


LVI. MELODIES UNHEARD. Musicians wrestle everywhere: All day, among the crowded air, I hear the silver strife; And    waking long before the dawn    Such transport breaks upon the town I think it that "new life!"


XVIII. THE SHOW. The show is not the show, But they that go. Menagerie to me My neighbor be. Fair play    Both went to see.


It may be wilderness without, Far feet of failing men, But holiday excludes the night, And it is bells within. I thank these kinsmen of the shelf; Their countenances bland Enamour in prospective, And satisfy, obtained.


L. HUNGER. I had been hungry all the years; My noon had come, to dine; I, trembling, drew the table near, And touched the curious wine. 'T was this on tables I had seen, When turning, hungry, lone, I looked in windows, for the wealth I could not hope to own.


XXV. SHIPWRECK. It tossed and tossed,    A little brig I knew,    O'ertook by blast, It spun and spun, And groped delirious, for morn.


I did not know the ample bread, 'T was so unlike the crumb The birds and I had often shared In Nature's dining room.


MY COUNTRY'S WARDROBE.


At least, it solaces to know That there exists a gold, Although I prove it just in time Its distance to behold! It 's far, far treasure to surmise, And estimate the pearl That slipped my simple fingers through While just a girl at school!


I woke and chid my honest fingers,    The gem was gone; And now an amethyst remembrance Is all I own. XVI. What if I say I shall not wait? What if I burst the fleshly gate And pass, escaped, to thee?


XXXI. Nature rarer uses yellow Than another hue; Saves she all of that for sunsets,    Prodigal of blue, Spending scarlet like a woman, Yellow she affords Only scantly and selectly, Like a lover's words.


XV. THE HUMMING BIRD. A route of evanescence With a revolving wheel; A resonance of emerald, A rush of cochineal; And every blossom on the bush Adjusts its tumbled head,    The mail from Tunis, probably, An easy morning's ride.


It ruffles wrists of posts, As ankles of a queen,    Then stills its artisans like ghosts, Denying they have been.


The dusk drew earlier in, The morning foreign shone,    A courteous, yet harrowing grace, As guest who would be gone. And thus, without a wing, Or service of a keel, Our summer made her light escape Into the beautiful.


XXXIV. STORM. It sounded as if the streets were running, And then the streets stood still. Eclipse was all we could see at the window, And awe was all we could feel. By and by the boldest stole out of his covert, To see if time was there.


It can't be dying,    it's too rouge,    The dead shall go in white. So sunset shuts my question down With clasps of chrysolite.


XXIX. The one that could repeat the summer day Were greater than itself, though he Minutest of mankind might be.


XXV. THE MUSHROOM. The mushroom is the elf of plants, At evening it is not; At morning in a truffled hut It stops upon a spot As if it tarried always; And yet its whole career Is shorter than a snake's delay, And fleeter than a tare.


X. The only ghost I ever saw Was dressed in mechlin,    so; He wore no sandal on his foot, And stepped like flakes of snow. His gait was soundless, like the bird, But rapid, like the roe; His fashions quaint, mosaic, Or, haply, mistletoe.


A lord might dare to lift the hat To such a modest clay, Since that my Lord, "the Lord of lords" Receives unblushingly!


'T is sweet to know that stocks will stand When we with daisies lie, That commerce will continue, And trades as briskly fly. It makes the parting tranquil And keeps the soul serene, That gentlemen so sprightly Conduct the pleasing scene!


Severer triumph, by himself Experienced, who can pass Acquitted from that naked bar, Jehovah's countenance!


XXXIX. SAVED! Of tribulation these are they Denoted by the white; The spangled gowns, a lesser rank Of victors designate.


Perhaps you 're going too! Who knows? If you should get there first, Save just a little place for me Close to the two I lost! The smallest "robe" will fit me, And just a bit of "crown;" For you know we do not mind our dress When we are going home.


Prue had laid her work in her lap, and as Titbottom paused a moment, and I turned towards her, I found her mild eyes fastened upon my face, and glistening with many tears. I knew that the tears meant that she felt herself to be one of those who seemed to Titbottom very happy.


But Prue and her sex regard sentiment more than action, and I understand easily enough why she is never tired of hearing me read of Prince Charlie.


"I mingled with men, but with little pleasure. There are but many varieties of a few types. I did not find those I came to clearer sighted than those I had left behind. I heard men called shrewd and wise, and report said they were highly intelligent and successful.


"It is because they make him too far sighted, perhaps," interrupted Prue quietly, as she took the silver soup ladle from the sideboard. We sipped our wine after dinner, and Prue took her work.


"My grandmother sent me to school, but I looked at the master, and saw that he was a smooth round ferule, or an improper noun, or a vulgar fraction, and refused to obey him. Or he was a piece of string, a rag, a willow wand, and I had a contemptuous pity.


I watched the earnest, enthusiastic sacrifice. I saw the pure resolve, the generous faith, the fine scorn of doubt, the impatience of suspicion.


If a sharp wind blew suddenly, I saw it tremble and flutter; it was thin, flat, impalpable. I removed my glasses, and looked with my eyes at the wife. I could have smiled to see the humid tenderness with which she regarded her strange _vis à vis_. Is life only a game of blindman's buff? of droll cross purposes?


Scores of little island vessels had my grandfather seen coming over the horizon, and cast anchor in the port. Hundreds of summer mornings had the white sails flashed and faded, like vague faces through forgotten dreams.


"But she could not stay away. She could not resist my voice, in whose tones burnt all the love that filled my heart and brain.


Now you know, my dear,' said the merchant, swelling up, and apparently prouder of his great stomach than of his large fortune, 'I am not of that kind. I am not easily frightened. You may spare yourself the pain of trying to impose upon me.


There I pitched my tent, and staid till the good man died, and his business was discontinued. "But while there," said Titbottom, and his voice trembled away into a sigh, "I first saw Preciosa. Despite the spectacles, I saw Preciosa.


Long may the sword of Arthur wave!


The funniest thing about him is the way he likes to grow   Not at all like proper children, which is always very slow; For he sometimes shoots up taller like an india rubber ball, And he sometimes gets so little that there's none of him at all.


Mary Jane commands the party, Peter leads the rear; Feet in time, alert and hearty, Each a Grenadier! All in the most martial manner Marching double quick; While the napkin, like a banner, Waves upon the stick!


She wanders lowing here and there, And yet she cannot stray, All in the pleasant open air, The pleasant light of day; And blown by all the winds that pass And wet with all the showers, She walks among the meadow grass And eats the meadow flowers.


Sounds of the village grow stiller and stiller, Stiller the note of the birds on the hill; Dusty and dim are the eyes of the miller, Deaf are his ears with the moil of the mill.


[Illustration] [Illustration] MY BED IS A BOAT My bed is like a little boat; Nurse helps me in when I embark; She girds me in my sailor's coat And starts me in the dark.


When to go out, my nurse doth wrap Me in my comforter and cap; The cold wind burns my face, and blows Its frosty pepper up my nose.


WINTER TIME Late lies the wintry sun a bed, A frosty, fiery sleepy head; Blinks but an hour or two; and then, A blood red orange, sets again. Before the stars have left the skies, At morning in the dark I rise; And shivering in my nakedness, By the cold candle, bathe and dress.


O pleasant party round the fire! The songs you sing, the tales you tell, Till far to morrow, fare ye well!


[Illustration] _2. Shadow March_ All round the house is the jet black night; It stares through the window pane; It crawls in the corners, hiding from the light, And it moves with the moving flame.


Now we behold the embers flee About the firelit hearth; and see Our faces painted as we pass, Like pictures, on the window glass. Must we to bed indeed?


Good night_ When the bright lamp is carried in, The sunless hours again begin; O'er all without, in field and lane, The haunted night returns again. Now we behold the embers flee About the firelit hearth; and see Our faces painted as we pass, Like pictures, on the window glass. Must we to bed indeed?


Now in the falling of the gloom The red fire paints the empty room: And warmly on the roof it looks, And flickers on the backs of books.


And see, on the steps of my palace, the kings Coming and going with presents and things! Now I have done with it, down let it go! All in a moment the town is laid low. Block upon block lying scattered and free, What is there left of my town by the sea?


[Illustration] THE FLOWERS All the names I know from nurse: Gardener's garters, Shepherd's purse, Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock, And the Lady Hollyhock.


Every path and every plot, Every bush of roses, Every blue forget me not Where the dew reposes.


Meantime his golden face around He bares to all the garden ground, And sheds a warm and glittering look Among the ivy's inmost nook.


Fairy places, fairy things, Fairy woods where the wild bee wings, Tiny trees for tiny dames   These must all be fairy names! Tiny woods below whose boughs Shady fairies weave a house; Tiny tree tops, rose or thyme, Where the braver fairies climb!


For which of us forgets The Indian cabinets, The bones of antelope, the wings of albatross, The pied and painted birds and beans, The junks and bangles, beads and screens, The gods and sacred bells, And the loud humming, twisting shells!


_" Ah, far enough, my dear, Far, far enough from here   Yet you have farther gone! "_Can I get there by candlelight?


we children never more Shall watch it from the water door.


how merrily he sings, As far away he flies." [Illustration] "Go forth, my child, and laugh and play, And let your cheerful voice, With birds, and brooks, and merry May, Cry aloud, Rejoice! rejoice!


My friends—do they now and then send A wish or a thought after me?


When I think of my own native land, In a moment I seem to be there; But alas! recollection at hand Soon hurries me back to despair. But the seafowl is gone to her nest, The beast is laid down in his lair, Even here is a season of rest, And I to my cabin repair.


There's mercy in every place, And mercy, encouraging thought! Gives even affliction a grace, And reconciles man to his lot.


'Twas God who showed them all the way, And gave them all their skill; He teaches children, if they pray, To do his holy will.


The ice began to tremble in the centre of the bay, and the highest masses became loosened at their base ready to form icebergs, and drift away before the first gale; but Hatteras would not wait for the ice fields to break up before he started.


Even if land failed them, they could always fall back on the sloop, and finish the journey without fatigue to men or dogs.


Instantly the bear lay flat on his belly with his two paws stretched round the opening.


A strong breeze from the south east was blowing, which soon increased to a hurricane, sweeping over the rocks covered with snow and the huge masses, of ice, which took the forms of icebergs and hummocks, though on dry land.


On the third day they came to a lake, several acres in extent, and still entirely frozen over.


They came to a long chain of low hills which seemed to extend for miles, and were all covered on the eastern side with bright red snow.


It seemed to the travellers as if rivulets of blood were running among their feet. [Illustration: ] The Doctor filled several bottles with this precious substance to examine at leisure, as he had only had a glimpse of the Crimson Cliffs in Baffin's Bay.


In most cases I have seen a few alternate doses give rise to a pleasant perspiration, speedily followed by quiet sleep and recovery on waking. May we not expect the same result at the commencement of Asiatic cholera, and thus arrest the further development of the disease?


The world is not only indebted to Hahnemann for a knowledge, but also for a natural corrective of this serious abuse. His provings on healthy persons show this beyond a doubt. Few men, if their attention has once been directed to this abuse, will feel disposed to deny its extent.


This truth is abundantly confirmed by experience. All my previously obtained results in practice, testify to the correctness of this statement.


It should be considered a duty by every physician, to be acquainted with the new means of cure. The continued use of purgatives should be considered a crime against health. They will soon cease to exist as regular means of treatment, and their pernicious consequences will no longer have to be relieved by remedial means.


Although Apis acts well in white swelling of the knee, which is comparatively a rare disease, yet it is far more useful in DYSENTERY.


Ever since I have made it a rule not to give Apis to females in whom the existence of pregnancy can be suspected in the remotest degree until the matter is reduced to a certainty, and the conduct of the physician can be determined upon in accordance with existing facts.


What little experience I have had in the employment of Apis in these diseases, is, however, sufficient to induce me to recommend the use of it for further and more enlarged knowledge.


The American Provings contain the following symptomatic indications: 1.


THE AUTHOR. _Berlin, Oct.


Day after day I have obtained more satisfactory results, and now I look upon Apis mellifica as the greatest polychrest, next to Aconite, which we possess.


In the presence of such complications Apis will prove ineffectual until they have been removed by some specific antidote.


In such a case, the medicine first excites a combat between the morbific force and the conservative reaction. The greater the hostile force, the longer the struggle between momentary improvement and aggravation of the symptoms; it may sometimes continue for one, two, or three days.


Inasmuch as it is impossible to determine beforehand the degree of sensitiveness, I obviate all danger by exhibiting Apis in alternation with Aconite in the manner indicated for hydrocephalus.


After taking a few doses, the patient begins to feel relieved, enjoys a quiet sleep, and the resolution of the inflammation takes place, accompanied by the breaking out of a general perspiration.


552: occasional attacks of colic, with a feverish, tremulous sensation.


560: soreness and pressure in the lower abdomen. 563: _feeling of soreness, burning and numbness below and on the side of the right hip, deep seated_. 566: the inner abdomen feels sore and as if excoriated, painful when pressed upon.


It is the first business of the physician to support the organism in this tendency, and to guard the brain and bowels from every destructive relapse.


All that I have found it possible to do, has been to prevent such a dreadful combination by carefully attending to my patients in previous diseases.


As long as the intermittent type continues, Apis has to be given; the action of the spleen becomes more and more normal, the fever paroxysms become shorter and less marked, and the restoration of health is effected without any more treatment than a single dose of Apis 30, one globule, which is permitted to act until the patient is well.


In practice, it was often found very difficult, even for the most experienced physician, to decide in which of these exceptional cases the specifically homœopathic agent should have been employed. Sometimes no properly homœopathic remedy could be found, in which case the treatment had to be conducted in a round about way.


All these difficulties have been effectually removed by Apis, and the treatment of intermittent fever may henceforth be said to constitute one of the most certain and positive achievements of the homœopathic domain.


For the last three years, during which period I have experimented with Apis, I have not come across a single case of intermittent fever that did not yield satisfactorily to Apis.


I have found it much more difficult to conquer the vaccine poison, _which I have become satisfied by years of observation, constitutes the most universal and most powerful generator of the typhus which is prevailing in our age and which seems unwilling to leave us_.


No remedy possesses equal powers in protecting internal organs from the dangerous inroad of this disease. I effected all this without any other medicinal aid, or without resorting to an operation.


Either the disease had ceased, or it required further treatment. In the latter case, Apis 3 was continued in drop doses, morning and evening, until the patient was decidedly convalescent. No further medicine was given after this, and the Natrum mur. was permitted to act undisturbed, without a single repetition.


In such cases, a cure cannot be effected without some suitable anti psoric. During the prevailing fever, Natrum muriaticum has proved such an anti psoric, provided it was used as follows: If the signs of psoric complication became visible at the outset, I gave a pellet of Natrum mur. 30, and awaited the result until after the third paroxysm.


In phlegmonous and suppurative habitual erysipelas, a cure is generally facilitated, if a dose of Sulphur 30 is interpolated, in the manner which we have explained before, in order to neutralize the psoric taint which is here generally present.


I mean erysipelas of new born infants, which commences at the genital organs, thence spreads over the skin, and terminates in the induration and destruction of this organ. Until now, I have not had an opportunity of verifying the truth of this theoretical conclusion by actual experiments.


The same result is obtained by nature in cases of mild scarlatina, without the interference of art.


Sequelæ seldom take place after this kind of treatment; this is undoubtedly an additional recommendation for the use of Apis.


In either case the medicine need not be repeated, and the organic reaction will be sufficient to complete a cure without the interference of surgery. A simple bread and milk poultice may be used as soothing palliative, especially if the external skin is of a firm, hard texture.


We permit such a dose to act for twenty four hours, after which Apis is resumed, and continued according to the above stated rule.


Then he drove away joyfully. On any other occasion Ma would have been a welcome companion. But she certainly spoiled the flavour of an auction. When Pa arrived at the Carmody store, he saw that the little yard of the Garland place below the hill was already full of people.


Carmody people knew that these things had to be sold to pay the debts, and they could not be sold unless they were bought. Still, it was a very tame affair.


Lest Pa should see it, and feel encouraged thereby, she looked immovably at her plate.


Ma was there, too, waiting for him on the back door step as he drove into the yard at sunset. Her face, when she saw the baby, expressed the last degree of amazement.


‚ÄĚ ‚ÄúI dunno but what I might step over, seeing it‚Äôs so handy. But the sorrel mare really does need shoeing, Ma,‚ÄĚ protested Pa.


That, my family circle! The fellow still has courage!


The poorest day laborer has his tidy nest. Thirty years' work, and this my family circle, the circle of my people   (Glancing round.) God knows who is overhearing me again now!


(Hugenberg has risen. Lulu sits on the arm of his chair.) LULU. You've fallen into pretty company! I expect visitors, children! SCHIGOLCH. I guess I've got to stick something in there, too.


You're in bad humor. You give yourself too much work. For weeks and months I've seen nothing of you.


God be thanked we're home again at last!


That'll whip his young blood into the proper rhythm right from the start. HUGENBERG. (Kicking his legs.) Hooray, hooray, I shall be expelled from school!


What did he make to her?


LULU. I married you!


'One button!' he said with emphasis; 'the coat was sent to mother with only one button left on; and if you  ' here he turned upon his questioner with a little fierceness  'if you had been through such a bloody battle, and killed so many men, you would have burst and lost _all_ your buttons, and not had one left, like father!'


It was a race for life, and he ran backwards the whole way; he wasn't going to turn his back to the enemy. He pressed on, shouting "Hurrah!" till he got to his own side again, and then he reached his colonel.


'Uncle Jake!' A grunt was the only response; but that was sufficient. The two perfectly understood each other, and a minute after Teddy was perched on his knee.


With one hand he was fingering a large brass button, which figured conspicuously in the centre of his small waistcoat, and this button was the subject of his theme.


They were dancing and flashing with excitement now, and his whole frame was quivering with enthusiasm; with head thrown back, and tongue, hand, and foot all in motion, he seemed to have his audience completely spell bound, and they listened with open eyes and mouths to his oration.


'And that's the story of my button,' pursued the boy, ignoring with scorn this last remark. 'And did your father have only one button to his coat?' The voice was a strange one, and the boys turned round to meet the curious gaze of a sturdy little damsel, who had, unnoticed, joined the group.


'What have you been doing, sonny?' asked the young mother, whose eyes had brightened at the sight of him. 'Telling father's story,' replied Teddy with alacrity. A shadow came over his mother's face, her lips took a distressed curve, but she said nothing, only occupied herself with attending to the child's wants.


'She would have hurt dreadful,' Teddy observed thoughtfully. 'Besides, she's so proud, I don't think I would have liked to do that.'


The subject was dropped, but Teddy's thoughts were busy. He ran down to the village green after tea, and there met one or two of his special chums, to whom he confided the events of the afternoon. They highly applauded the scene at the bridge, but Teddy shook his curly head a little doubtfully.


Ay, I remember seeing your father, youngster. He was a brave man, he was, but he would never have made war against little maids like this. Shame on you; get you home! Get you gone, I say, or I'll bring my stick out.'


CHAPTER II 'When Greek Meets Greek Then Comes The Tug Of War!'


'I have never seen them together that I remember, but I should think they did. They both fight for their queen and country.' 'Well, I'm a soldier's son, and I don't like a sailor's daughter, I know that! I think she is a kind of enemy.' 'Oh, hush! sonny.


Instantly, out came a little red tongue at him, and at this daring piece of audacity he gasped out loud, 'I hate you!'


And Teddy, completely sobered, walked home beside his mother without uttering a word.


And the young mother took her Bible in hand, and drawing her boy close to her till his little head rested against her shoulder, read him the story he wished. Later on, as she tucked him up in bed, and was giving him a kiss, he clasped his arms round her neck and whispered, 'I think I'm going to do it quite by myself to morrow.'


He had been telling her the substance of his conversation with the rector, and now curled up on the low wooden seat, his small legs crossed underneath him, he was gazing dreamily out into the sweet scented garden.


Mrs. John was talking in her sweet clear voice to her boy, and he, letting his restless blue eyes rove to and fro, noting every bird on the hedges and every flower in the path, kept bringing them back to his mother's face with a dreamy upward gaze.


There was silence; then in a more cheerful tone the rector turned to the little culprit. 'And now tell me the whole story, and who it was that you spoke to in church.' Teddy was perfectly ready with his defence, and he poured into his listener's ears such a voluble story that the rector was quite bewildered when it came to an end.


'Button boy, I do like you,' she asserted, with a quick little nod of her head. 'Will you tell me another story soon?'


'I think we're pretty close to heaven,' he remarked presently, lifting his soft blue eyes to the clear sky above. 'I wonder if that's the reason birds in their nests agree? The angels can't like to hear quallering so close to them.'


'Why, it's only myself!' Teddy said in a disappointed tone, though there was wonder in his eyes.


'I think I am, at least part of me is; my enemy isn't, but I am.' This was beyond Nancy's comprehension. 'And you'll never get angry, or set those horrid boys at me any more?'


'Sakes alive!' ejaculated his grandmother. 'And who may you be wanting to christen?' 'It isn't for a baby; a boy about as old as me. What do you think's an ugly name?'


'Love?' she said curiously; 'what does that mean?' 'It's my banner of love that I'm going to carry for my Captain. It means I've got to love even you.' Nancy's red lips pouted. 'I don't want you to love me,' she said. 'I've got to do it.' 'How are you going to do it?'


He slowly unrolled a large white pocket handkerchief, tied it carefully to a twig, which he broke off from an adjoining branch, and then held it up in front of her.


'Then I don't want to belong to Him. I believe He has sailors just as well as soldiers, only you're not telling true.'


Mrs. John looked down upon the eager little face lifted to hers. 'Run away, then; but don't stay long.' And so it was that for the second time that week Teddy was a visitor at the rectory. 'Please, sir, I've done it!' he exclaimed breathlessly, as soon as he was ushered into the presence of the rector.


Now I've got to find Nancy. Mr. Upton said I was to be friends with her, and I've got to hold up my banner of love over her.


He gave it to me last night, and I did it with a pen and ink before breakfast. Can you read it? Nancy looked at the straggling, uneven black letters that occupied the whole width across.


'What have we to do?' asked Nancy. 'It's great fun. You see, every one we meet is an enemy, and we have to get past them without them seeing us; we must crawl through the long grass, or we must climb a tree, or get through the bushes; all kinds of adventures we have.'


This was accomplished safely; but having passed him Teddy stood still, and the spirit of mischief seized hold of him. Turning to Nancy, he said, with sparkling eyes, 'What fun to take him prisoner and tie him up to the tree with his own fishing line! He's an enemy; I really think it's our duty to do it. You stay here and watch me.'


'What an angel's face!' said that lady admiringly. 'And who is the little girl? she looks a regular little gipsy!'


'I did fight hard, then; and I climbed in again. Was that being a soldier?' 'Yes, my boy.' 'And granny let me out soon after; and I kissed her and said I was sorry, but I told her how nearly I had run away, and asked her to see that the window was locked next time, so that I shouldn't have to fight so hard.'


'I did ask mother, and she said sailors were soldiers, they were sea soldiers. You'll have to be a soldier, I expect.'


And then suddenly, a short time after, they came upon a fisherman. It was only a burly farmer, who was evidently making a day of it, for he sat under the shade of a tree with the remnants of a substantial lunch around him; his fishing rod was in his hand, but the line was out of the water, and he, with head thrown back and mouth wide open, was fast asleep.


'Hush!' said Teddy, in an excited whisper. 'If he wakes, all is up with us; now let's get past him on tiptoe.'


Mr. Upton was coming out of church after a choir practice, when Teddy accosted him. He smiled when he saw the boy.


'Any more troubles to tell me?' 'No, sir; but I want to tell you about the soldiers who are coming.' 'I have heard about them. It will be a grand time for you, won't it?' 'Please, sir, could you have a tea party for them?'


He was gone some time, and Teddy improved his opportunity by making friends with those around him; it was not long before he had acquainted them with the fact of his being a soldier's son, and from that he drifted into telling the story of 'Father's button!' There was vociferous applause when he had finished.


Teddy walked out without a word: he felt the disgrace keenly, but it was the means of bringing him to himself, and rushing away to a secluded corner in a field he flung himself down on the ground and sobbed as if his heart would break. Half an hour after his uncle, happening to pass through that field, came across him.


'It will turn his head,' murmured Mrs. John to herself; but her mother's heart swelled with pride as his clear voice rang out,   'It wasn't I who thought about the tea, it was Corporal Saxby,' (cheers).


'Why, Ted, what be the matter?' he inquired as he lifted him to his feet. Teddy's tear stained face and quivering lips touched him so, that he sat down on a log of wood near, and drew him between his knees.


'I haven't anything to say, unless you'd like me to tell you father's story. I've told it once to day, but you weren't all there. May I, sir?'


'Such a tiny little chap as he is, so full of feeling and nerves  he hadn't ought to have done it.' Yet only that morning she herself had almost given him a sound whipping for one of his mad pranks! Shortly after Teddy crept in, and shutting the door behind him, put his back against it.


'I shall be busy to morrow; we march out at eight in the morning.' 'Oh, I shall come and see you off.'


And he dashed out after his comrades, as if ashamed to show his emotion. Teddy called his mother to him when in bed that night.


'I went to see a goblin once that I heard of. He lived in a tub on the seashore, and he lived by gobbling up schoolmasters and governesses.


The tables were decorated with flowers; meat pies, cold beef and ham sandwiches disappeared in a marvellous manner, and the cakes and bread and butter with watercress were equally appreciated. Towards the end of the meal several ladies came forward and sang, and one or two part songs were also given by some of the guests staying at the Hall.


The schoolmaster was very lenient with the boys that morning, or else they would have been in dire disgrace, for lessons were imperfectly learned and said, and never had he found it so difficult to keep their attention.


John and two other neighbours were in charge of the tea and coffee, and Teddy and Nancy, with one or two other children, as a special favour, were allowed to help to wait on the guests.


'I shall believe you have a bee in your bonnet, as some folks say,' said the farmer; 'pray, if the sheep came out of their proper field, what business was that of yours?' 'I wanted to be good to you. I'm sorry I tied you up that day, dreadful sorry. And I've got to love you, so I thought it would be a good plan to send your sheep back again.'


'That's enough for you,' said Teddy, a little condescendingly. 'I think and make believe a lot more.' 'I want to go to heaven,' Nancy said thoughtfully.


'Do let me come, too!' said Nancy. 'I want to be on the angel's back with you.' 'P'raps you can follow behind on another angel; I want mine all to myself.


'You hear what the missus says; you won't get no help from that quarter. But I'll give you a chance; would you like to stop to tea with us?' Teddy smiled. 'Thank you, sir, but mother will expect me home to tea; may I go now? And do you forgive me for what I did the other day?'


'Do let me come, too!' said Nancy. 'I want to be on the angel's back with you.' 'P'raps you can follow behind on another angel; I want mine all to myself. We get up to the top of the mountain, then I stand down on the ground.' 'And me, too!' put in Nancy. 'You mustn't keep stopping me; I can't feel it if you do.


Teddy paused. 'I can't tell you what He's like, but I feel what He's like myself. Such a loving, kind face, and He puts His hand on my head and says, "Well done, Teddy!" And then I take hold of His hand, and I think I cry.'


'Those are Farmer Green's sheep,' quoth he to himself. 'I'm glad of it  horrid old man he is!


And with this admission Nancy was for the time pacified. Before they parted she looked at her little companion with solemn eyes.


The seats are made of roses, and if you want to go to sleep, the pillows are made up of violets; there's a beautiful river, and trees full of apples and oranges, and plums and pears; the banks are red  they're made of strawberries.' 'Oh,' gasped Nancy, 'how lovely!'


And this Nancy did, and the roses began to come back to Teddy's cheeks, and then others of his playfellows were allowed to come and see him.


Nancy set up a shout then of frantic agony, and a carter coming over the bridge fortunately heard her, and came to the rescue, not a moment too soon. He threw off his coat and heavy boots, and plunged in just as Teddy's curly head rose for the third and last time.


Even Nancy one day remonstrated with him. 'You're nasty and cross to day. No one pleases you.' 'I want to get out. I'm tired of this old kitchen.' 'If you can't get out, you can't. Being cross won't take you out.'


It did not take long to bring him to shore, but he lay in the carter's arms limp and lifeless, and Nancy burst into an agony of tears. 'He's dead! he's dead, and I've killed him!' she cried.


Every day small offerings were presented at the door by the village children, and very diverse were the gifts.


Sometimes a bunch of wild flowers, sometimes birds' eggs, marbles, boxes of chalk, a packet of toffee or barley sugar, a currant bun, a tin trumpet, a whistle, a jam tart, a penny pistol, and so on, till his mother declared she would have to stop taking them in, as they were getting such an accumulation of them.


John never left her boy's bedside  night and day she was by him, and many wondered at her calm peacefulness.


And when on the following Sunday Mr. Upton gave out, in a faltering voice, 'The prayers of this congregation are desired for Edward Platt, who is very dangerously ill,' there was not a dry eye in the church, and one or two audible sobs came from the boys' seats in the gallery.


Teddy listened eagerly. 'No wonder no one couldn't find it!' he said, fingering his adornment proudly. 'It's like the fish that brought Peter some money once.' Then the colonel turned to one of his friends. 'Now, major, what do you think of this youngster? Would you like to take him as a drummer boy into your regiment?'


'I meant it to be buried with me,' said Teddy, considering, 'but I don't mind altering my mind about it, and if you promise not to give it to any one else, I will let you have it.' 'I promise truly,' vowed Nancy, 'and I told you I wouldn't love you till you gave it to me, but I will now, because I'm trying to be good!'


But perhaps you've forgotten all about it, youngster? A button isn't worth much sorrow after the first pang of its loss is over.'


'Because it's the ruination of them. I shall never forget a pretty boy we had once; he was called the "cherub," and had been a chorister  sang divinely. He was only four years in the regiment, and his case was brought to me before he was discharged. He came to us an angel, and departed a finished young blackguard.


Mother would rather have her little son fight God's battles than be the bravest soldier in the Queen's army.' 'But,' said Teddy, 'I mean to do both; and now, mother, just before I go to sleep, give me father's button to kiss!'


He peeped in again to see why the music had stopped; and now he saw that Mrs. Darling had laid her head on the box, and that two tears were sitting on her eyes.


One thing I should like to do immensely, and that is to tell her, in the way authors have, that the children are coming back, that indeed they will be here on Thursday week.


And so when Mrs. Darling went back to the night nursery to see if her husband was asleep, all the beds were occupied. The children waited for her cry of joy, but it did not come. She saw them, but she did not believe they were there.


'But if I had been a weak man,' he said. 'Good heavens, if I had been a weak man!' 'And, George,' she said timidly, 'you are as full of remorse as ever, aren't you?'


By depriving the children of ten minutes of delight.' 'Oh, if you look at it in that way.' 'What other way is there in which to look at it?' You see, the woman had no proper spirit.


On that eventful Thursday week Mrs. Darling was in the night nursery awaiting George's return home: a very sad eyed woman. Now that we look at her closely and remember the gaiety of her in the old days, all gone now just because she has lost her babes, I find I won't be able to say nasty things about her after all.


Of course, as we have seen, he was quite a simple man; indeed he might have passed for a boy again if he had been able to take his baldness off; but he had also a noble sense of justice and a lion courage to do what seemed right to him; and having thought the matter out with anxious care after the flight of the children, he went down on all fours and crawled into the kennel.


'That,' explained Curly, 'is why we are her servants.' 'You? Wendy's servants!' 'Yes,' said Peter, 'and you also. Away with them.'


So they all stood back, and let him see, and after he had looked for a little time he did not know what to do next.


Do you think Tinker Bell was grateful to Wendy for raising her arm? Oh dear no, never wanted to pinch her so much.


'Let us carry her down into the house,' Curly suggested. 'Ay,' said Slightly, 'that is what one does with ladies.' 'No, no,' Peter said, 'you must not touch her. It would not be sufficiently respectful.'


Peter thought of everything. 'Slightly,' he ordered, 'fetch a doctor.' 'Ay, ay,' said Slightly at once, and disappeared, scratching his head. But he knew Peter must be obeyed, and he returned in a moment, wearing John's hat and looking solemn. 'Please, sir,' said Peter, going to him, 'are you a doctor?'


Peter did not hear him. He was begging Wendy to get better quickly, so that he could show her the mermaids. Of course she could not answer yet, being still in a frightful faint; but from overhead came a wailing note.


'That is not Michael,' she said quickly, lest a judgment should fall on her. Peter looked. 'Hullo, is it a new one?' 'Yes.' 'Boy or girl?'


Wendy was married in white with a pink sash. It is strange to think that Peter did not alight in the church and forbid the banns.


Years rolled on again, and Wendy had a daughter. This ought not to be written in ink but in a golden splash. She was called Jane, and always had an odd inquiring look, as if from the moment she arrived on the mainland she wanted to ask questions.


It was the spring of the year, and the story had been told for the night, and Jane was now asleep in her bed. Wendy was sitting on the floor, very close to the fire, so as to see to darn, for there was no other light in the nursery; and while she sat darning she heard a crow.


'What did his crow sound like?' Jane asked one evening. 'It was like this,' Wendy said, trying to imitate Peter's crow. 'No, it wasn't,' Jane said gravely, 'it was like this'; and she did it ever so much better than her mother.


It is sad to have to say that the power to fly gradually left them.


_) Power unanointed may come   Dominion (unsought by the free) And the Iron Dome, Stronger for stress and strain, Fling her huge shadow athwart the main; But the Founders' dream shall flee.


"General, you're hurt  this sleet of balls!" He seemed half spent; With moody and bloody brow, he lowly bent: "The field to die on; But not  not yet; the day is long," breathed Lyon.


An India ship of fame was she, Spices and shawls and fans she bore; A whaler when her wrinkles came   Turned off! till, spent and poor, Her bones were sold (escheat)! Ah! Stone Fleet.


I have a feeling for those ships, Each worn and ancient one, With great bluff bows, and broad in the beam; Ay, it was unkindly done. But so they serve the Obsolete   Even so, Stone Fleet!


In the narrow stream the Louisville, Unhelmed, grew lawless; swung around, And would have thumped and drifted, till All the fleet was driven aground, But for the timely order to retire.


_ Next day in large bold hand was seen The closing bulletin: VICTORY! _Our troops have retrieved the day By one grand surge along the line; The spirit that urged them was divine. The first works flooded, naught could stay The stormers: on!


Spite all that they have undergone, Their desperate hearts are set upon This winter fort, this stubborn fort, This castle of the last resort, This Donelson.


Some, seeking to crawl in crippled plight, So stiffened  perished. Yet in spite Of pangs for these, no heart is lost.


Over the ground that morning lost Rolled the blue billows, tempest tossed, Following a hat on the point of a sword.


Like to see the list of the dead; These '_craven Southerners_' hold out; Ay, ay, they'll give you many a bout" "We'll beat in the end, sir" Firmly said one in staid rebuke, A solid merchant, square and stout.


M. The work begins.


A prayer went up  a champion's. Morning Beheld you in the Turret walled by adamant, where a spirit forewarning And all deriding called: "Man, darest thou  desperate, unappalled   Be first to lock thee in the armored tower?


Alcides, groping into haunted hell To bring forth King Admetus' bride, Braved naught more vaguely direful and untried.


The fighting Temeraire, Built of a thousand trees, Lunging out her lightnings, And beetling o'er the seas   O Ship, how brave and fair, That fought so oft and well, On open decks you manned the gun Armorial.


Yet this was battle, and intense   Beyond the strife of fleets heroic; Deadlier, closer, calm 'mid storm; No passion; all went on by crank, Pivot, and screw, And calculations of caloric.


But staring peril soon appalled; You, the Discarded, she recalled   Recalled you, nor endured delay; And forth you rode upon a blasted way, Arrayed Pope's rout, and routed Lee's array, McClellan: Your tent was choked with captured flags that day, McClellan. Antietam was a telling fray.


Who could Antietam's wreath foretell? Authority called you; then, in mist And loom of jeopardy  dismissed.


How dread to mark her near the glare And glade of death the beacon throws Athwart the racing waters there; One by one each plainer grows, Then speeds a blazoned target to our gladdened foes.


All out of range. Adieu, Messieurs! Jeers, as it speeds, our parting gun. So burst we through their barriers And menaces every one: So Porter proves himself a brave man's son.


Converging fires. We speak, though low: "That blastful furnace can they threadd" "Why, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abed nego Came out all right, we read; The Lord, be sure, he helps his people, Ned."


There is battle in the Mountain   Might assaulteth Might; 'Tis the fastness of the Anarch, Torrent torn, an ancient height; The crags resound the clangor Of the war of Wrong and Right; And the armies in the valley Watch and pray for dawning light.


Who inhabiteth the Mountain That it shines in lurid light, And is rolled about with thunders, And terrors, and a blight, Like Kaf the peak of Eblis   Kaf, the evil height? Who has gone up with a shouting And a trumpet in the night?


_The tribes swarm up to war As in ages long ago, Ere the palm of promise leaved And the lily of Christ did blow.


_Were men but strong and wise, Honest as Grant, and calm, War would be left to the red and black ants, And the happy world disarm.


_The tribes swarm up to war As in ages long ago, Ere the palm of promise leaved And the lily of Christ did blow._ Their mounted pickets for miles are spied Dotting the lowland plain, The nearer ones in their veteran rags   Loutish they loll in lazy disdain.


_Did the Fathers feel mistrust? Can no final good be wrought? Over and over, again and again Must the fight for the Right be fought?


A cheering picture. It is good To look upon a Chief like this, In whom the spirit moulds the form. Here favoring Nature, oft remiss, With eagle mien expressive has endued A man to kindle strains that warm.


Vainly she calls upon Michael (The white man's seraph was he), For Michael has fled from his tower To the Angel over the sea.


Is this the proud City? the scorner Which never would yield the ground? Which mocked at the coal black Angel? The cup of despair goes round.


No sprintly fife as in the field, The decks were hushed like fanes in prayer; Behind each man a holy angel stood   He stood, though none was 'ware.


_ The triple lines steam slowly on; Day breaks, and through the sweep of decks each man Stands coldly by his gun   As cold as it.


The sentries pace, bonetas glide; Below, the sleeping sailor swing, And if their dreams to quarters spring, Or cheer their flag, or breast a stormy tide. But drums are beat: _Up anchor all!


He rides at their head; A crutch by his saddle just slants in view, One slung arm is in splints, you see, Yet he guides his strong steed  how coldly too.


The pride of quenchless strength is his   Strength which, though chained, avails; The very rebel looks and thrills   The anchored Emblem hails.


Pretense of wonderment and doubt unblest: In Cushing's eager deed was shown A spirit which brave poets own   That scorn of life which earns life's crown; Earns, but not always wins; but he   The star ascended in his nativity.


A volley ahead! They hear it; And they hear the repartee: Fighting was but frolic In that marching to the sea: It was glorious glad marching, A marching bold and free.


Not Kenesaw high arching, Nor Allatoona's glen   Though there the graves lie parching   Stayed Sherman's miles of men; From charred Atlanta marching They launched the sword again.


Martial strains are mingling, Though distant far the bands, And the wheeling of the squadrons Is like surf upon the sands. The bladed guns are gleaming   Drift in lengthened trim, Files on files for hazy miles   Nebulously dim.


The Abrahamic river   Patriarch of floods, Calls the roll of all his streams And watery mutitudes: Torrent cries to torrent, The rapids hail the fall; With shouts the inland freshets Gather to the call.


The phantom host has faded quite, Splendor and Terror gone   Portent or promise  and gives way To pale, meek Dawn; The coming, going, Alike in wonder showing   Alike the God, Decreeing and commanding The million blades that glowed, The muster and disbanding   Midnight and Morn.


Convulsions came; and, where the field Long slept in pastoral green, A goblin mountain was upheaved (Sure the scared sense was all deceived), Marl glen and slag ravine.


"Still silent, friend? can grudges be? Yet am I held a foe?   Turned to the wall, on his cot he lies   Never I'll leave him so! Brave one! I here implore your hand; Dumb still? all fellowship fled? Nay, then, I'll have this stubborn hand" He snatched it  it was dead.


Apollo like in pride, Each would slay his Python  caught The maxims in his temple taught   Aflame with sympathies whose blaze Perforce enwrapped him  social laws, Friendship and kin, and by gone days   Vows, kisses  every heart unmoors, And launches into the seas of wars.


It was less than two years ago, while out walking one afternoon that I was attracted by Olaf Jansen's house and its homelike surroundings, toward its owner and occupant, whom I afterward came to know as a believer in the ancient worship of Odin and Thor.


Is it not strange that there has never been an iceberg encountered either in the Arctic or Antarctic Ocean that is not composed of fresh water? Modern scientists claim that freezing eliminates the salt, but Olaf Jansen claims differently.


When I started to take my leave, he seemed reluctant to have me go, and asked me to come again. Although at the time I thought nothing of it, I remember now that he made a peculiar remark as I extended my hand in leave taking.


Finally he gave into my hands certain data, drawings and crude maps. "These," said he in conclusion, "I leave in your hands.


The earth is only a larger form of a geode, and the law that created the geode in its hollow form undoubtedly fashioned the earth in the same way."


Even at this late day I would be fearful of having any one see or know the things I am writing, and the records and maps I have in my keeping.


His courage and persistence were truly remarkable. On investigation we found less than one third of our provisions remaining, while to our utter dismay, we discovered that our water casks had been swept overboard during the violent plungings of our boat.


There was a tradition, my father explained, that still farther northward was a land more beautiful than any that mortal man had ever known, and that it was inhabited by the "Chosen."


But it is all small ice, and I think it either drives out to the open space to the north or rots and sinks, as I could see none ahead to the north.")


In 1889 I sold out my fishing boats, and found I had accumulated a fortune quite sufficient to keep me the remainder of my life.


"They cannot do any more than kill us." "They seem to be kindly disposed," I replied, "although what terrible giants! They must be the select six of the kingdom's crack regiment. Just look at their great size." "We may as well go willingly as be taken by force," said my father, smiling, "for they are certainly able to capture us."


"What say you, my son?" asked my father.


And thus we made the discovery that the water was indeed fresh, absolutely so, without the least briny taste or even the suspicion of a salty flavor.


In this elevated garden all manner of fruits, vines, shrubs, trees, and flowers grow in riotous profusion.


Clusters of grapes four and five feet in length, each grape as large as an orange, and apples larger than a man's head typified the wonderful growth of all things on the "inside" of the earth.


The car seats were huge yet comfortable affairs, and very high above the floor of the car. On the top of each car were high geared fly wheels lying on their sides, which were so automatically adjusted that, as the speed of the car increased, the high speed of these fly wheels geometrically increased.


We were on an open and iceless sea.


There was a beautiful beach to our right, and we decided to reconnoiter. Casting anchor, we waded ashore to rest up for a day before continuing the outward hazardous undertaking.


On our outward trip we came through a narrow channel which appeared to be a separating body of water between two considerable bodies of land.


I remember hearing my father remark that the giant race of people in the land of "The Smoky God" had almost as accurate an idea of the geography of the "outside" surface of the earth as had the average college professor in Stockholm.


Blocks of ice larger than a house were frequently lifted up a hundred feet by the mighty force of lateral pressure; they would shudder and rock to and fro for a few seconds, then come crashing down with a deafening roar, and disappear in the foaming waters.


A writer in a recent article on this subject says:(19) (19 "Almost every year sees the final extinction of one or more bird species.


My heart sank in hopeless despair. I cautiously picked my way across the berg toward the other side, hoping that our fishing craft had righted itself.


I afterward heard the captain tell the mate that I was as crazy as a March hare, and that I must remain in confinement until I was rational enough to give a truthful account of myself.


La Chambre, in an account of Andree's balloon expedition, on page 144, says: "On the isle of Amsterdam the snow is tinted with red for a considerable distance, and the savants are collecting it to examine it microscopically.


Sydney Carton, who had thought of and suggested this clever thing, was a reckless, besotted young man.


Now, he told her, after all these years, her father had been released, and was at that moment in Paris in charge of a man named Defarge, who had once been his servant. But the long imprisonment had affected his mind, so that he was little more than the broken wreck of the man he had once been.


Her mother had died when she was a baby, in France, and she lived alone with her old nurse, Miss Pross, a homely, grim guardian with hair as red as her face, who called Lucie "ladybird" and loved her very much.


His conscience had always condemned him for this, and now, as he saw the innocent Darnay's look, noble and straightforward, so like himself as he might have been, and as he thought of Lucie's sweet face and of how she had wept as she was forced to give testimony against the other, Carton felt that he almost hated the man whose life he had saved.


The king and queen were beheaded. Thousands were put to death merely on suspicion, and thousands more were thrown into prison to await their turn.


Probably he had heard, in London, of Lucie's trouble, and out of his love for her, which he always carried hidden in his heart, had come to Paris to try to aid her husband. He had arrived only to hear, at the same time, of the acquittal and the rearrest.


She was so small and weak that she feared to die, and Carton held her cold hand all the way and comforted her to the end. Cruel women of the people sat about the guillotine knitting and counting with their stitches, as each poor victim died.


Before he went, he bent down and touched her cheek with his lips, and they heard him whisper: "For a life you love!" They did not know until next day what he meant.


Since I got back here I have not done a thing except work as the President must during the closing days of a session of Congress.


The poor little fellow likes to have me put my hands on his forehead, for he says they smell so clean and soapy! Last night he was very sick, but this morning he is better, and Dr. Rixey thinks everything is going well. Dr. Lambert is coming on this afternoon to see him.


The houses, the grounds, the owners, all were too dear for anything and we loved them.