THE	ONE	WHITE	ROSE.
	A	SORROWFUL	woman	said	to	me,
	"	Come	in	and	look	on	our	child."
	I	saw	an	Angel	at	shut	of	day,
	And	it	never	spoke	but	smiled.
	I	think	of	it	in	the	city's	streets,
	I	dream	of	it	when	I	rest
	The	violet	eyes,	the	waxen	hands,
	And	the	one	white	rose	on	the	breast!
	NAMELESS	PAIN.
	IN	my	nostrils	the	summer	wind
	Blows	the	exquisite	scent	of	the	rose	:
	O	for	the	golden,	golden	wind,
	Breaking	the	buds	as	it	goes	!
	Breaking	the	buds	and	bending	the	grass,
	And	spilling	the	scent	of	the	rose.
	wind	of	the	summer	morn,
	Tearing	the	petals	in	twain,
	Wafting	the	fragrant	soul
	Of	the	rose	through	valley	and	plain,
	1	would	you	could	tear	my	heart	to-day
	And	scatter	its	nameless	pain	!


Addresses
	perior	officers	had	placed	him:	obedience	is	the	sol-
	dier's	supreme	law,	and	when	death	comes	in	the
	discharge	of	duty,	imposed	by	obedience,	it	is	always
	glorious.	"When,	therefore,	in	the	roll-call	of	Company
	B,	First	New	Hampshire	volunteers,	the	name	of	Cor-
	poral	William	Dervin	is	reached	and	called,	the
	answer	will	go	forth:	"Died	on	the	field	of	honor.'	'
	And	when	the	roster	of	the	Sheridan	Guards	is	placed
	in	position	in	the	armory,	opposite	the	name	of	Cor-
	poral	William	Dervin	we	will	find	the	legend:	"Died
	on	the	field	of	duty."	May	God	have	mercy	on	his
	soul.
	We	told	our	boys	on	that	bright	May	morning
	three	months	ago	that	they	would	not	be	forgotten;
	that	the	prayers	of	the	loving	mother,	the	devoted
	father,	and	the	tender	sister	would	accompany	them
	as	so	many	guardian	spirits.	They	have	so	accom-
	panied	them	;	and	one	devoted	mother,	who	day	after
	day	said,	"0	God,	protect	and	guide	my	soldier	boy
	and	bring	him	back	safe	to	his	mother's	love	and
	embrace,	'	'	says,	as	she	hears	that	her	boy	is	no	more	:
	"May	God's	holy	will	be	done;	my	child	has	done
	his	duty."	.	.	.	We	all	join	in	earnest	sympathy
	to	the	afflicted	ones	and	in	a	promise	of	prayer	for	the
	departed,	for	"it	is	a	holy	and	a	wholesome	thought
	to	pray	for	the	dead	that	they	may	be	loosed	from
	their	sins."
	Yes,	the	scene	is	changed.	It	is	not	what	it	was
	then.	The	changed	scene	should	serve	for	a	lesson	to
	us.	He	who	then	was	as	active	and	vigorous	as	any
	one	of	us	says	to-day	from	his	coffin-pulpit	:	'	'	To-day
	137


132	BAGATELLE
	You	do	not	understand	at	all	?
	He	was	a	poet	;	on	his	page
	He	drew	her	;	and,	though	kingdoms	fall,
	This	lady	lives	from	age	to	age.
	A	poet	that	means	painter	too,
	For	words	are	colors,	rightly	laid	;
	And	they	outlast	our	brightest	hue,
	For	varnish	cracks	and	crimsons	fade.
	The	poets	they	are	lucky	ones	!
	When	we	are	thrust	upon	the	shelves,
	Our	works	turn	into	skeletons
	Almost	as	quickly	as	ourselves	;
	For	our	poor	canvas	peels	at	length,
	At	length	is	prized	when	all	is	bare	:
	"	What	grace	!	"	the	critics	cry,	"	what	strength	!	"
	When	neither	strength	nor	grace	is	there.
	Ah,	Fanny,	I	am	sick	at	heart,
	It	is	so	little	one	can	do	;
	We	talk	our	jargon	live	for	Art	!
	I	'd	much	prefer	to	live	for	you.
	How	dull	and	lifeless	colors	are	!
	You	smile,	and	all	my	picture	lies	:
	I	wish	that	I	could	crush	a	star
	To	make	a	pigment	for	your	eyes.
	Yes,	child,	I	know,	I	'm	out	of	tune	;
	The	light	is	bad	;	the	sky	is	gray	:


POEMS	OF	THE	AFFECTIONS.	445
	Oh	!	for	one	week	amid	the	emerald	fields,
	"Where	the	Avoca	sings	the	song	of	Moore;
	Oh	!	for	the	odor	the	brown	heather	yields,
	To	glad	the	pilgrim's	heart	on	Glenmalur	!
	Yet	is	there	still	what	meeting	could	not	give,
	A	joy	most	suited	of	all	joys	to	last;
	For,	ever	in	fair	memory	there	must	live
	The	bright,	unclouded	picture	of	the	past.
	Old	friend	!	the	years	wear	on,	and	many	cares
	And	many	sorrows	both	of	us	have	known	;
	Time	for	us	both	a	quiet	couch	prepares
	A	couch	like	Jacob's,	pillow'd	with	a	stone.
	And	oh	!	when	thus	we	sleep	may	we	behold
	The	angelic	ladder	of	the	Patriarch's	dream;
	And	may	my	feet	upon	its	rungs	of	gold
	Yours	follow,	as	of	old,	by	hill	and	stream	!
	A	DREAM	OF	YOUTH.
	i.
	WHEN	the	summer	evening	fadeth	from	golden	into	gray,
	And	night,	dark	night,	sets	his	watch	upon	the	hill,
	A	gentle	shadow	standeth	in	my	secret	path	alway,
	And	whispereth	to	my	heart	its	fond	words	still.
	ii.
	"When	the	fleeing	of	the	shadows	foretells	the	coming	light,
	And	morn,	merry	morn,	winds	her	horn	on	the	hill,
	There	glideth	by	my	bed	the	shadow	of	the	night,
	"Whispering	to	my	heart	its	fond	words	still.


550	RELIGIOUS	POEMS.
	II.
	Night	and	morn,	when	the	sky	was	bright,
	He	sat	on	the	mountain's	crest,
	And	sung	God's	praise	with	all	his	might,
	Or	kneeling,	beat	his	breast.
	And	when	the	sky	above	him	frown'd,
	And	the	storm	rose	fierce	and	loud,
	He	pray'd	to	Heaven	for	the	land	around,
	Its	weak,	and	wicked,	and	proud.
	in.
	And	many	a	tempted	levin	brand
	From	its	destin'd	aim	was	turn'd,
	And	many	a	sinful	ship	made	land
	The	sea	would	have	inurn'd	;
	And	many	whose	final	'counting	hour
	Was	come,	got	Time	of	Grace	;
	And	many	a	high	and	haughty	tower
	His	prayer	kept	in	its	place.
	IV.
	In	all	that	land	these	things	were	known,
	Through	all	the	proverb	ran:
	"	The	chosen	Friends	of	God	alone
	Are	real	Friends	to	Man."
	Alas	!	in	our	own	alter'd	day,
	Well	may	the	guilty	rue
	How	few	are	living	now	to	pray
	For	the	sins	the	many	do	!
	v.
	When	we	are	stricken	with	age	or	ill,
	Or	frighten'd	with	God's	fires,
	Our	trust	is	still	in	human	skill,
	Or	art's	electric	wires.


84	HOME	PORK	MAKING.
	turnips	and	parsnips	cut	small,	boil	half	an	hour	longer,
	when	add	a	pint	of	potatoes	cut	into	small	pieces,	and
	some	dumplings.	Cover	closely,	boil	twenty	minutes,
	when	pour	out	into	a	large	platter	and	serve.	The
	dumplings	are	made	of	I	pint	of	flour,	i	teaspoon	salt,
	and	i	teaspoon	baking	powder,	sifted	together.	Add
	2	eggs,	well	beaten	and	i	cup	of	milk.	Mix	out	all	the
	lumps	and	drop	by	spoonfuls	into	the	stew.	Serve	this
	potpie	with	a	salad	of	dandelion	leaves,	dressed	with
	olive	oil,	vinegar,	salt	and	pepper.
	PORK	GUMBO.
	Cut	into	small	dice	2	Ibs.	lean	pork.	(In	these
	recipes	where	the	pork	is	stewed	or	baked	in	tomatoes
	or	water,	salt	pork	may	be	used,	provided	it	is	well
	freshened.)	Fry	the	pork	a	pale	brown,	add	2	sliced
	onions,	and	when	these	are	brown	add	3	bell	peppers
	sliced,	and	2	quarts	peeled	tomatoes,	with	2	teaspoons
	salt.	Let	boil	gently,	stirring	frequently,	for	i^	hours.
	Peel	and	cut	small	i	pint	of	young	tender	okra	pods,
	and	add.	Cover	again	and	boil	half	an	hour	longer.
	Cook	in	a	lined	saucepan,	as	tin	will	discolor	the	okra.
	With	this	serve	a	large	dish	of	rice	or	hominy.	Corn
	may	be	used	in	place	of	okra	if	the	latter	is	disliked.
	The	corn	should	be	cut	from	the	cobs	and	added	half
	an	hour	before	dinner	time.
	SUCCOTASH.
	Boil	a	piece	of	lean	pork	(about	5	Ibs.	in	weight)
	in	3	quarts	water,	until	the	meat	is	tender.	The	next
	day	take	out	the	pork,	and	remove	the	grease	risen	on
	the	liquor	from	the	pork	during	cooking.	To	3	pints
	of	the	liquor	add	i	pint	of	milk	and	i^	pints	lima	beans.
	Let	them	boil	until	tender	about	one	hour	when
	add	ij	pints	corn	cut	from	the	cob.	Let	the	whole
	cook	for	ten	minutes,	add	a	teaspoon	of	salt	if	neces-


COOKING	AND	SERVING	PORK.	97
	and	a	little	flour	sprinkled	over	the	scoring.	Bake
	until	done.	Always	make	a	dressing	to	eat	with	this,
	of	bread	and	cracker	crumbs,	a	lump	of	butter,	an	egg,
	jalt,	pepper	and	sage	to	taste;	mix	with	hot	milk,	pack
	in	a	deep	dish	and	bake	about	twenty	minutes.	Keep
	water	in	the	baking	dish	after	the	meat	is	taken	up,
	pour	off	most	of	the	fat	and	thicken	the	liquor.
	Tomatoes	go	well	with	this	dish,	also	cranberry	sauce.
	BOILED.
	Boil	4	or	5	Ibs.	of	pork	having	streaks	of	lean	in
	it,	in	plenty	of	water,	for	one	and	one-half	hours.	Take
	out,	remove	skin,	cut	gashes	across	the	top,	sprinkle
	over	powdered	sage,	pepper	and	rolled	crackers.
	Brown	in	the	oven.	Slice	when	cold.
	CREAMED	IN	MILK	AND	WATER.
	Freshen	10	or	12	slices	of	fat	pork	and	fry	a	nice
	brown,	then	take	up	the	pork	and	arrange	on	a	deep
	platter.	Next	pour	off	half	the	fat	from	the	frying	pan
	and	add	i	cup	of	milk	and	I	of	boiling	water,	and	i
	tablespoon	flour	mixed	with	a	little	cold	milk	or	water,
	or	else	sifted	in	when	the	milk	and	water	begin	to	boil,
	but	then	a	constant	stirring	is	required	to	prevent	it
	from	being	lumpy.	Next	add	a	pinch	of	salt	and	a
	dust	of	pepper,	let	it	boil	up,	and	pour	over	the	pork.
	Enough	for	six.
	EGG	PORK.
	Take	slices	of	pork	and	parboil	in	water,	sprinkle
	a	little	pepper	on	the	pork	and	put	into	the	frying	pan
	with	a	small	piece	of	butter	and	fry.	Take	i	egg
	and	a	little	milk	and	beat	together.	When	the	meat
	is	nearly	done,	take	each	slice	and	dip	into	the	egg,	lay
	back	in	the	pan	and	cook	until	done.


IOO	HOME	PORK	MAKING.
	bits	of	bone	and	membrane.	Cook	for	half	an	hour	in
	a	small	quantity	of	water.	When	cooked	drain	off	the
	water,	and	to	each	brain	add	a	little	pepper,	nearly	an
	even	teaspoon	of	salt,	a	tablespoon	of	butter	and	I
	beaten	egg.	Cook	until	the	egg	thickens.	Or	when
	the	brains	arc	cooked,	drain	off	the	water,	season	with
	salt,	pepper	and	sage.
	PORK	AND	BEANS.
	Pick	over	and	let	soak	over	night	I	quart	beans;	in
	the	morning	wash	and	drain,	and	place	in	a	kettle	with
	cold	water,	with	J	teaspoon	soda,	boil	about	twenty
	minutes,	then	drain	and	put	in	earthen	bean	dish	with	2
	tablespoons	molasses,	season	with	pepper.	In	the	cen-
	ter	of	the	beans	put	I	Ib.	well-washed	salt	pork,	with
	the	rind	scored	in	slices	or	squares,	rind	side	upper-
	most.	Cover	all	with	hot	water	and	bake	six	hours
	or	longer,	in	a	moderate	oven.	Keep	covered	so	they
	will	not	burn	on	the	top,	but	an	hour	or	so	before	serv-
	ing	remove	the	pork	to	another	dish	and	allow	it	to
	brown.	Beans	should	also	brown	over	the	top.
	BOILED	DINNER.
	Put	a	piece	of	salt	pork	to	cook	in	cold	water	about
	9	o'clock.	At	10	o'clock	add	a	few	beets,	at	n	o'clock
	a	head	of	cabbage,	quartered.	One-half	hour	later	add
	the	potatoes.	Serve	very	hot.
	GERMAN	WICK-A-WACK.
	Save	the	rinds	of	salt	pork,	boil	until	tender,	then
	chop	very	fine,	add	an	equal	amount	of	dried	bread
	dipped	in	hot	water	and	chopped.	Season	with	salt,
	pepper	and	summer	savory;	mix,	spread	one	inch	deep
	in	baking	dish,	cover	with	sweet	milk.	Bake	one-half
	hour.	Very	nice.


220
	INDEX.
	Double-crown	post,	209
	pott,	209
	Drier,	142
	Drum,	washing,	18,	39
	Drying	loft,	145
	Dusting	esparto,	45
	ra	5	>	9
	Dyeing	to	shade,	78
	EDGE-RUNNER,	54
	Ekman's	wood-pulp	pro-
	cess,	34
	Elasticity	of	fibres,	II,	58
	Electrolytic	bleaching,	25	;	Her-
	mite's	process,	26;	ozone
	method,	25
	manufacture	of	alkali,	2OO	;
	bleaching	powder,	200
	Engine,	beating,	59
	Forbes's	patent	beater,	59
	Marshall's	perfecting,	56
	size,	80;	preparation	of,	81;
	recipe	for	neutral	resin	soap,
	83	;	recipe	for	white,	83
	washing	and	breaking,	17,	18
	Esparto,	available	cellulose	in,
	44
	bleaching,	49
	detection	of,	in	paper,	168
	dusting,	45
	isolation	of	cellulose	in,	44
	Muller's	analysis	of,	44
	physical	characteristics	of,	5
	rationale	of	boiling,	45
	steepers,	48
	summer,	45
	washing,	48,	49
	winter,	45
	Estimation	of	alumina	in	alum,
	200;	antichlor,	2OI	;	chlorine
	in	bleaching	powder,	203	;
	mineral	substances	in	paper,
	176;	sodas,	197
	Evaporator,	Porion's,	1	88
	Yaryan's,	190
	Examination,	microscopical,	of
	paper,	163
	T7ADING	in	engines	and	chests,
	F	74
	Fast	driving,	128
	Fast	stuff,	52
	Feeding-rolls,	154,	160
	Felt,	dry,	122
	wet,	122
	Felting,	7,	II,	12,	53
	Ferric	oxide	causticising	process.
	I8	7
	Fibres,	cotton,	recognition	of,	by
	microscope,	166
	elasticity	of,	53
	esparto,	168
	flax	or	linen,	167
	hemp,	167
	jute,	167
	Manilla,	167
	physical	characteristics	of
	various,	5	6,	7
	straw,	1	68
	wood,	chemical,	167;	mechani-
	cal,	1	68
	Fibro-vascular	bundles,	5
	Filaments,	5
	Finishing,	161
	First	pump-box,	113
	press-rolls,	123
	Flax,	cellulose	of,	4,	5,	6
	boiling,	13
	Foolscap,	2	IO
	Forbes's	patent	beater,	59
	Fourdrinier	machine,	93
	Free	resin,	80
	French	and	English	thermometer
	scales,	215
	weights	and	measures,	214
	Friction,	glazed	paper	cutting,
	156
	glazing,	150
	Froth-killers,	III
	Furnace,	incinerating,	178
	Warren	rotary,	193
	GAS,	bleaching	with	chlorine,
	15,	20
	Gaunt	evaporator,	191
	Glass	covers,	164
	slides,	164


224
	INDEX.
	Resin	size,	preparation	of,	81	;
	recipes	for,	83
	soap,	68,	83
	spots,	84
	Retting,	4
	Revolving	boilers,	14
	cutter,	152
	strainer,	96
	Roll,	beater,	55,	60
	breaker,	19
	breast,	107
	carrying,	129
	t	couch,	136
	stent,	132
	Rolls,	calender,	148
	cotton	covered,	148
	dry-felt,	121
	hard,	on	edges	of	web,	loo,
	101
	wet-felt,	130
	Ropes,	6
	Royal,	209,	210
	Rust	spots,	60
	SAND	TRAP,	96
	Save-all,	1	08
	Scandinavian	mills,	produce	of,
	37
	Scotch	wood-pulp	process,	39
	Scott	multiple	effect,	192
	Screens,	42
	Second	press-felt,	123
	press-roll,	123
	Setting	circular	knives,	153,	160
	Settling	of	stuff	on	machine	wire,
	53
	Shake,	58,	107
	Sheave,	149
	Size,	animal,	preparation	of,	137
	engine,	68
	Sizes	of	book	papers,	210;	cart-
	ridge	papers,	21	1	;	printing
	papers,	2IO;	writing	papers,
	209
	Sizing,	animal,	or	tub,	139
	caseine,	90
	engine,	80
	Smalts,	74	,
	Smoothing-rolls,	125
	Soap,	in	sizing,	138
	resin,	80,	83
	Soda,	aluminate	of,	187
	ash,	59
	calcined,	1	80
	carbonate	of,	207
	caustic,	testing,	197
	hydrate	of,	36
	hyposulphite	of,	testing,	201
	process,	40
	recovery	of,	178
	silicate	of,	187
	sulphate	of,	36	;	testing,	203
	sulphide	of,	36
	table	showing	amount	of,	in
	solutions	of	various	densities,
	206,	207
	Sodium	chloride,	199
	resinate,	86
	Soft-sized	papers,	no
	Solvents,	action	on	cellulose,	2
	Sorting	esparto,	46
	rags,	10
	Spangling	or	glistening,	143
	Spanish	esparto,	analysis	of,	44
	Spent	liquors,	recovery	of,	178
	Standard	microscopical	speci-
	mens,	170;	shade	of	blue,
	72	;	carnation,	72
	sulphuric	acid,	preparation	of,
	195
	Starch,	71
	detection	of,	in	paper,	175
	paste,	202
	Steam,	use	of,	in	bleaching,	20,
	50
	Strainer,	96
	plates,	97
	revolving,	96
	Straining	china	clay,	68
	Pulp,	96,	97
	starch,	72
	terra-alba	(barium	sulphate),
	70
	ultramarine,	73
	Straw,	bleaching,	51
	boiling,	50
	physical	characteristics	of,	5
	Structures,	plant,	3


i	94	THE	POEMS	OF
	On	halcyon's	wings	(her	glory	which	reftores)
	Beyond	the	ocean	to	Columbus'	mores	:
	God's	facred	picture	in	this	man	adore,
	Honour	his	valour,	zeal,	his	piety	more	;
	High	value	what	you	hold,	him	deep	engrave
	In	your	heart's	heart,	from	whom	all	good	ye	have
	For	as	moon's	fplendor	from	her	brother	fprings,
	The	people's	welfare	ftreameth	from	their	kings.
	Since	your	love's	objeft	doth	immortal	prove,
	O	!	love	this	prince	with	an	eternal	love.
	Pray	that	thofe	crowns	his	anceftors	did	wear,
	His	temples	long,	more	orient,	may	bear	;
	That	good	he	reach	by	fweetnefs	of	his	fway,
	That	ev'n	his	fhadow	may	the	bad	affray	;
	That	Heaven	on	him	what	he	defires	bellow,
	That	ftill	the	glory	of	his	greatnefs	grow	;
	That	your	begun	felicities	may	laft,
	That	no	Orion	do	with	ftorms	them	blaft	;
	That	victory	his	brave	exploits	attend,
	Eaft,	wed,	or	fouth,	where	he	his	force	fliall	bend,
	Till	his	great	deeds	all	former	deeds	furmount,
	And	quell	the	Niir.rod	of	the	Hellefpont	;
	That	when	his	well-fpent	care	all	care	becalms,
	He	may	in	peace	fleep	in	a	made,,	of	palms	;
	And	rearing	up	fair	trophies*,	.thai	Heaven	may
	-Extend	his	life	to	world's	extrerneft-day.
	T	H	2


162	JOHN	BUNYAN.
	ment	?	Where	is	the	scholar,	the	poet,	the	man	of	taste
	and	feeling,	who	does	not,	with	Cowper,
	"	Even	in	transitory	life's	late	day,
	Revere	the	man	whose	PILGRIM	marks	the	road,
	And	guides	the	PROGRESS	of	the	soul	to	God	1"
	We	have	just	heen	reading,	with	no	slight	degree	of
	interest,	that	simple	but	wonderful	piece	of	autobiography,
	entitled	"	GRACE	ABOUNDING	TO	THE	CHIEF	OF	SINNERS,"
	from	the	pen	of	the	author	of	Pilgrim's	Progress.	It	is
	the	record	of	a	journey	more	terrible	than	that	of	the
	ideal	Pilgrim	;	"	truth	stranger	than	fiction	;"	the	painful
	upward	struggling	of	a	spirit	from	the	blackness	of	despair
	and	blasphemy,	into	the	high,	pure	air	of	Hope	and	Faith.
	More	earnest	words	were	never	written.	It	is	the	entire
	unveiling	of	a	human	heart	;	the	tearing	off	of	the	fig-leaf
	covering	of	its	sin.	The	voice	which	speaks	to	us	from
	these	old	pages	seems	not	so	much	that	of	a	denizen	of
	the	world	in	which	we	live,	as	of	a	soul	at	the	last	solemn
	confessional.	Shorn	of	all	ornament,	simple	and	direct	as
	the	contrition	and	prayer	of	childhood,	when	for	the	first
	time	the	Spectre	of	Sin	stands	by	its	bedside,	the	style	is
	that	of	a	man	dead	to	self-gratification,	careless	of	the
	world's	opinion,	and	only	desirous	to	convey	to	others,	in
	all	truthfulness	and	sincerity,	the	lesson	of	his	inward
	trials,	temptations,	sins,	weaknesses,	and	dangers;	and
	to	give	glory	to	Him	who	had	mercifully	led	him	through
	all,	and	enabled	him,	like	his	own	Pilgrim,	to	leave	behind
	the	Valley	of	the	Shadow	of	Death,	the	snares	of	the
	Enchanted	Ground,	and	the	terrors	of	Doubting	Castle,
	and	to	reach	the	land	of	Beulah,	where	the	air	was	sweet


14	THE	MISSISSIPPI	BUBBLE
	the	shilling	with	an	air	as	though	no	one	could	see
	what	none	could	fail	to	notice.
	Above	these	mingled	cries	of	the	hangers-on	of
	this	crowd	of	nobility	and	gentles	rose	the	blare	of
	crude	music,	and	cries	far	off	and	confused.	Above
	it	all	shone	the	May	sun,	brighter	here	than	lower
	toward	the	Thames.	In	the	edge	of	London	town
	it	was,	all	this	little	pageant,	and	from	the	residence
	squares	below	and	far	to	the	westward	came	the
	carriages	and	the	riders,	gathering	at	the	spot	which
	for	the	hour	was	the	designated	rendezvous	of	ca-
	pricious	fashion.	No	matter	if	the	tower	at	the
	drinking	curb	was	crowded,	so	that	inmates	of	the
	coaches	could	not	find	way	among	the	others.	There
	was	at	least	magic	in	the	morning,	even	if	one	might
	not	drink	at	the	chalybeate	spring.	Cheeks	did	in-
	deed	grow	rosy,	and	eyes	brightened	under	the	chal-
	lenge	not	only	of	the	dawn	but	of	the	ardent	eyes
	that	gazed	impertinently	bold	or	reproachfully	im-
	ploring.
	Far-reaching	was	the	line	of	the	gentility,	to	whose
	flanks	clung	the	rabble	of	trade.	Back	upon	the
	white	road	came	yet	other	carriages,	saluted	by	those
	departing.	Low	hedges	of	English	green	reached
	out	into	the	distance,	blending	ultimately	at	the	edge
	of	the	pleasant	sky.	Merry	enough	it	was,	and	glad-
	some,	this	spring	day;	for	be	sure	the	really	ill


xxiv	PREFACE.
	which	was	made	for	his	call	for	volunteers	to
	save	the	guns	at	Audregnies.	This	touched	him
	deeply,	and	he	said	that	no	offer	of	Staff	service
	would	ever	induce	him	to	leave	his	squadron.
	We	said	good-bye,	and	I	think	both	felt	that
	we	should	not	meet	again.	Of	that,	personally,
	I	had	a	strong	presentiment.
	The	Twins,	so	happy	in	their	generation,	are
	now	together	;	freed	from	the	feverish	anxieties
	they	suffered	ere	they	went	to	war,	they	are
	linked	in	a	new	and	better	life,	surely	for	them
	one	full	of	activity	and	high	service.
	"	Time	takes	them	home	that	we	loved,	fair	names	and	famous,
	To	the	soft	long	sleep,	to	the	broad	sweet	bosom	of	death	;
	But	the	flower	of	their	souls	he	shall	not	take	away	to	shame
	us,
	Nor	the	lips	lack	song	for	ever	that	now	lack	breath.
	For	with	us	shall	the	music	and	perfume	that	die	not	dwell,
	Though	the	dead	to	our	dead	bid	welcome,	and	we	farewell."
	i


1	60	Toems	on	federal	Occ	a/ions.
	A	Day	my	grateful	Heart	has	facred	held,
	For	having	firft	Thy	beauteous	Form	reveal'd.
	i.
	Diftinguifh'd	from	the	reft,	it	mail	appear,
	For	ever	honour'd	and	for	ever	dear.
	Oh	that	my	Pen	foft	Bleffings	could	difpenfe,
	And	Streams	of	Happinefs	diftill	from	thence	!
	How	greatly	bleft,	how	far	remov'd	from	Cares,
	Should	be	C	L	E	M	E	N	E'S	eafy-flowing	Years	!
	Not	one	mould	roll,	no	not	an	Hour	take	Flight,
	Unmark'd	with	Joy,	un-colour'd	with	Delight.
	The	hafty	Moments,	eager	to	be	gone,
	Should,	big	with	Pleafure,	crowd	each	other	on	5
	And	This	great	Day,	fuperior	to	the	reft,
	Should	oft	return,	and	be	as	often	bleft.
	Vcrf*


358	THE	GABLE-KOOFED	HOUSE	AT	SNOWDOX.
	night.	The	guests	are	all	invited,	and	I	cannot	go.	Mothei
	will	not	die.	I	know	she	will	not.	She	must	live,	and
	to-morrow	I	will	surely	come."
	Jimmy	was	confounded,	but	ere	he	had	time	to	open
	his	mouth,	another	had	stepped	in	to	plead	his	cause.
	"	Josephine	Clayton,"	she	said,	more	sternly	than	ever	be
	fore	she	had	spoken	to	her	"	I	have	long	known	that
	you	had	no	heart,	but	I	did	not	suppose	you	so	perfectly
	callous	as	not	to	go	when	your	dying	mother	bids	you
	come.	I	would	leave	all	the	bridegrooms	in	the	world	to
	go	to	mine.	Go,	or	I	shall	blush	that	I,	too,	am	a
	woman	!	"
	Angrily	Josephine	turned	upon	her,	saying,	"	Who	are
	you	that	presumes	to	question	my	conduct	?	I	shall	go,	or
	not,	just	as	I	choose,	and	on	this	occasion	I	choose	not
	to	go."
	"	Is	that	your	decision	?	"	asked	Jimmy.
	"It	is,	for	how	can	I	go?"	she	answered.	"Mother
	cannot	expect	it	of	me."
	"	Then	I	will	go	without	you,"	said	Delphine,	who,	be
	sides	being	pleased	at	again	meeting	Kate	Lawrence,
	whom	she	so	much	esteemed,	was	also"	glad	of	an	excuse
	not	to	see	Josephine	married.
	Jimmy,	though	pleased	at	having	her	for	a	companion,
	would	still	gladly	have	exchanged	her	for	his	sister	;	for
	how	could	he	go	home	without	her?	how	tell	his	dying
	mother,	when	she	asked	for	Josephine,	that	she	had	not
	come	?	When	they	were	alone,	almost	convulsively	he
	threw	his	arms	around	his	sister	s	neck,	beseeching	her
	to	go	;	but	she	only	gave	him	tear	for	tear,	for	she	could
	weep,	while	her	invariable	answer	was,	"I	cannot,	oh,
	I	cannot."
	At	length	his	tears	ceased,	and	Delphine	recntered	the
	parlor	in	time	to	see	him,	with	blanched	face,	quivering


(54)
	His	teachings	in	Jerusalem	;	but	this
	Was	more	than	solitude.	The	silence	now
	Was	void	of	expectation.	Something	felt
	Always	before,	and	loved	without	a	name,
	Joy	from	the	air,	hope	from	the	opening	door,
	Welcome	and	life	from	off	the	very	walls,
	Seem	d	gone	and	in	the	chamber	where	he	lay
	There	was	a	fearful	and	unbreathing	hush,
	Stiller	than	night	s	last	hour.	So	fell	on	Mary
	The	shadows	all	have	known,	whose	bleeding	hearts
	Seem	d	the	torn	gate	through	which	the	loved,	departed,
	Broke	from	this	world	away.	The	parting	soul
	Spreads	wing	betwixt	the	mourner	and	the	sky	!
	As	if	its	path	lay,	from	the	tie	last	broken,
	Straight	through	the	cheering	gateway	of	the	sun	;
	And,	to	the	eye	strain	d	after,	tis	a	cloud
	That	bars	the	light	from	all	things.
	Now	as	Christ
	Drew	near	to	Bethany,	the	Jews	went	forth
	With	Martha,	mourning	Lazarus.	But	Mary
	Sat	in	the	house.	She	knew	the	hour	was	nigh
	When	He	would	go	again,	as	He	had	said,
	Unto	His	Father;	and	she	felt	that	He,
	Who	loved	her	brother	Lazarus	in	life,
	Had	chose	the	hour	to	bring	him	home	thro	Death
	In	no	unkind	forgetfulness.	Alone
	She	could	lift	up	the	bitter	prayer	to	heaven,
	"	Thy	will	be	done,	O	God	!"	but	that	dear	brother
	Had	filPd	the	cup	and	broke	the	bread	for	Christ	;
	And	ever,	at	the	morn,	when	she	had	knelt


392
	INDEX	OF	SUBJECTS
	On	a	Fine	Morning.	115-6
	One	Loves,	the	Other	Submits.
	242
	One	Poem,	Fame	for.	252
	One	Port	Alike	they	Sought.	281
	Opinion.	83,	102
	Opinion,	Private,	Income	Neces-
	sary	to.	54
	Opinion,	Change	of.	256
	Opportunities,	Lost.	62
	Opportunity.	262
	Optimism.	350-1
	"	O,	so	White	1	O,	so	Soft	!	O,	so
	Sweet	is	She	!	"	335
	Ossian.	231
	"	Ordeal	of	Richard	Feverel."
	326
	Orthodoxy,	xi,	16
	Others'	Misfortunes.	251
	"	Ought."	350
	Ouida.	215
	Ovid.	363
	Owen,	Professor.	64
	Oxford.	19
	"	Pace	that	Kills,"	The.	174-5
	Pagan	and	Christian.	173
	Pain,	The	Harvest	of.	213,	263,
	268
	Paine,	Thomas.	6
	Paradise,	Milk	of.	313
	Paradise,	Spirit	of.	39,	40,	278
	Paradise,	Woman	and.	63
	Pardon,	is	God's	Business.	287.
	Pardons,	Offender	Never.	306
	Parnassus	and	Poverty.	180
	Parodies.	49,	220-1,	223-4,	248,
	253,	274
	Paronomasia.	61,	349
	Parsons.	345
	Passion	and	Philosophy.	294
	Passions	of	Youth.	230
	Past	Self.	255-6
	Past,	The	Living.	170
	Pater's	Philosophy.	309-10
	Path	to	Wisdom,	Thorny.	21
	Paul,	St.	133
	Peace	and	War.	4
	Peacefulness.	259-60
	Pearls	of	Thought.	268
	Pegasus,	George	Eliot's.	343
	Penalty	of	Nobleness.	280
	People,	Plenty	of	Willing.	240
	Perdition,	Safety	as.	5
	!	Pericles.	5
	Persian,	From	the	268
	Personalities,	each	Man	has	Three.
	59-60
	Personality,	Human.	151,	340
	Pessimist.	257-8
	Pets.	225
	Pheidias.	380
	Philosophy,	Various.	101-5,	116,
	165,	294,	309
	Photography.	190.
	Physician.	306
	Pictures,	Word.	85-6,	121-2,
	166-7,	225-6,	270-1,	302-3,
	336-7,	356
	Pickwick	Papers.	264
	Plagiarism.	32,	360
	Pleasure,	Love	Not.	83
	Poem,	Famous	for	One.	252
	Poet	alone	Sees.	147
	Poet	and	His	Audience.	137
	Poet,	Autobiography	of	A.	125
	Poet,	Song	of	the.	136
	Poet,	The.	214,236
	Poetic	Imagination.	39,	40,	357-8
	Poetic	Passion.	310
	Poets	Condemned.	180
	Poets	Known	for	One	Production.
	252
	Poets,	poor	Critics	of	their	Own
	Work.	57,	289-90,
	Poetry.	63,	207,	214
	Poetry	and	Poverty.	180
	Poetry	Creates.	214
	Poetry	Despised.	357-8
	Poetry,	England's	Wealth	of.	358
	Poetry	Immortal.	11,	347
	Poetry,	Important	to	Education.
	358
	Poetry,	Insight	into.	17,	137
	Poetry,	Legislation	less	Vital	than.
	352
	Poetry,	Neglect	of.	218,	358
	Poetry,	Potent.	352
	Poetry,	Scope	of.	136
	Poetry,	Subjects	of,	Alleged
	Exhaustion.	188
	Poetry	Survives	the	Poet.	11,347
	Poetry,	Swinburne's.	219,	343
	Poetry,	Treasure-houses	of.	10,
	358
	Points	of	View.	17,	204-5,	251,
	265-6,	280,	340,	350
	"	Political	Precepts."	175


THE	GOBLINS.	51
	We	have	set	him	with	his	feet	in	a	great	tub	of	water,
	In	which	he	dabbles,	and	believes	it	to	be	Helicon.
	There	he's	contriving	i'	th'	honour	of	Mercury
	Who,	I	have	told	him,	comes	this	night	of	a	message
	From	Jupiter	to	Pluto,	and	is	feasted	here	by	him.
	Enter	Poet	and	Thieves.
	Devil.	O,	they	have	fetch'	d	him	off	!
	Poet.	Querer	per	solo	Querer,	1
	Or	he	that	made	the	"	Fairy	Queen."	2
	is/	Thief.	No,	none	of	these	:
	They	are	by	themselves,	in	some	other	place	;
	But	here's	he	that	writ	"	Tamerlane."	3
	Poet.	I	beseech	you,	bring	me	to	him	;
	There's	something	in	his	scene
	1	Sir	Richard	Fanshawe	who,	in	1670,	published	a	paraphrase
	of	a	dramatic	romance	written	in	Spanish	by	Don	Antonio	de
	Mendoza	(1628).
	8	Spenser.
	'This	was	Christopher	Marlowe,	whose	tragedy	of	"Tamer
	lane"	was	[twice]	published	in	1590.	The	following	extract
	from	the	scene	betwixt	the	emperors	will	show	that	it	was,	as
	the	poet	asserts,	"	a	little	high	and	cloudy	:	"
	"	Now	cleare	the	triple	region	of	the	ayre,
	And	let	the	majestic	of	Heaven	behold
	Their	scourge	and	terrour	treade	on	emperours	:
	Smile	stars	that	raign'd	at	my	nativitie,
	And	dim	the	brightnes	of	their	neighbour	lampes.
	Disdaine	to	borrow	light	of	Cinthia,
	For	I,	the	chiefe.st	lampe	of	all	the	earth	;
	First	rising	in	the	east	with	milde	aspect,
	But	fixed	now	in	the	meridian	line,
	Will	send	up	fire	to	your	turning	spheares,
	And	cause	the	sun	to	borrow	light	of	you.
	My	sword	strooke	fire	from	his	coate	of	stecle,
	Even	in	Bythinia,	when	I	tooke	this	Turke,
	As	when	a	fiery	exhalation,
	Wrapt	in	the	bowels	of	a	freesing	cloud
	Fighting	for	passage	make[s]	the	welkin	crack,
	And	casts	a	flash	of	lightning	to	the	earth	;
	But,	ere	I	march	to	wealthy	Persia,
	Or	leave	.Damascus	and	th'	Egyptian	fields,
	As	was	the	fame	of	Clymeus	brainsicke	sonue,
	That	almost	brent	the	axletree	of	heaven	?


316	LUTTRELL	OF	ARRAN.
	asking	her	for	all	the	little	events	of	the	morning.	And	what	were	these	?
	A	bantering	narrative	of	her	own	triumphs	how	well	she	had	looked
	how	tastefully	she	was	dressed	how	spitefully	the	women	had	criticised
	the	lovely	hat	she	swam	in,	and	which	she	gave	to	some	poor	girl	as
	she	came	out	of	the	water	a	trifle	that	had	cost	some	"	louis"	a	few
	days	before.
	It	was	noon	the	hour	the	mail	arrived	from	Brussels	and	Sir
	Within	would	come	to	present	her	with	the	rich	bouquet	of	rare
	flowers,	despatched	each	morning	from	the	capital.	It	was	a	piece	of
	homage	he	delighted	to	pay,	and	she	was	wont	to	accept	it	with	a	s&rt
	of	queen-like	condescension.	"	What	a	strange	life	of	dreamy	indul-
	gence	of	enjoyments	multiplied	too	fast	to	taste	of	luxuries	so	lavished
	as	almost	to	be	a	burden	and	how	unreal	it	was	all	!"	so	thought	she,
	as	they	drew	near	the	tall	chalk	cliffs	of	the	English	coast,	and	the
	deck	grew	crowded	with	those	who	were	eagerly	impatient	to	quit	their
	prison-house.
	For	the	first	time	for	a	long	while	did	she	find	herself	unnoticed	and
	unattended	to	;	none	of	that	watchful,	obsequious	attention	that	used	to
	track	her	steps	was	there.	Now,	people	hurried	hither	and	thither,
	collecting	their	scattered	effects,	and	preparing	to	land.	Not	one	to
	care	for	her,	who	only	yesterday	was	waited	on	like	royalty	!
	"	Is	this	your	trunk,	Miss	?"	asked	a	porter.
	"	No	;	this	is	mine,"	said	she,	pointing	to	a	bundle.
	"	Shall	I	carry	it	for	you,	my	dear	?"	said	a	vulgar-looking	and
	over-dressed	young	fellow,	who	had	put	his	glass	in	his	eye	to	stare
	at	her.
	She	muttered	but	one	word,	but	that	it	was	enough	seemed	clear,	as
	his	companion	said,	"	I	declare	I	think	you	deserved	it	1"
	"	It	has	begun	already,"	said	she	to	herself,	as	she	walked	slowly
	along	towards	the	town.	"	The	bitter	conflict	with	the	world,	of	which
	I	have	only	heard	hitherto,	I	now	must	face.	By	this	time	he	knows
	it	;	he	knows	that	he	is	desolate,	and	that	he	shall	never	see	me	more.
	All	the	misery	is	not,	therefore,	mine	;	nor	is	mine	the	greater.	I	have
	youth,	and	can	hope	;	he	cannot	hope	;	he	can	but	grieve	on	to	the	last.
	Well,	let	him	go	to	that	world	he	loves	so	dearly,	and	ask	it	to	console
	him.	It	will	say	by	its	thousand	tongues,	'	You	have	done	well,	Sir
	Within.	Why	should	you	have	allied	yourself	with	a	low-born	peasant-
	girl	?	How	could	her	beauty	have	reconciled	you	to	her	want	of	refine-
	ment,	her	ignorance,	her	coarse	breeding	?'	Ah,	what	an	answer	could
	his	heart	give,	if	he	but	dared	to	utter	it	;	for	he	could	tell	them	I	was
	their	equal	in	all	their	vaunted	captivations	!	Will	he	have	the	courage
	to	do	this	?	Or,	will	he	seek	comfort	in	the	falsehood	that	belies	me	?"


Dante	at	Derona.
	And	when	his	spirit	wove	the	spell
	(From	under	even	to	over-noon
	In	converse	with	itself	alone,)
	As	high	as	Heaven,	as	low	as	Hell,
	He	would	be	summoned	and	must	go:
	For	had	not	Gian	stabbed	Giacomo	?
	Therefore	the	bread	he	had	to	eat
	Seemed	brackish,	less	like	corn	than	tares;
	And	the	rush-strown,	accustomed	stairs
	Each	day	were	steeper	to	his	feet;
	And	when	the	night-vigil	was	done,
	His	brows	would	ache	to	feel	the	sun.
	Nevertheless,	when	from	his	kin
	There	came	the	tidings	how	at	last
	In	Florence	a	decree	was	pass'd
	Whereby	all	banish'd	folk	might	win
	Free	pardon,	so	a	fine	were	paid
	And	act	of	public	penance	made,
	This	Dante	writ	in	answer	thus,
	Words	such	as	these:	"	That	clearly	they
	In	Florence	must	not	have	to	say,
	The	man	abode	aloof	from	us
	Nigh	fifteen	years,	yet	lastly	skulk'd
	Hither	to	candleshrift	and	mulct.
	"That	he	was	one	the	Heavens	forbid
	To	traffic	in	God's	justice	sold
	By	market-weight	of	earthly	gold,
	Or	to	bow	down	over	the	lid
	Of	steaming	censers,	and	so	be
	Made	clean	of	manhood's	obloquy.
	[138]


73
	Jarrell:	What	year	was	this?
	Wyckoff:	Well,	this	was	during	the	war	really.
	Jarrell:	If	we	could	pick	up	the	thread	of	your	committment	to	the	Farm
	Security	Administration	and	how	you	actively	participated	in	keeping	the
	FSA	going	during	the	war	years	and	the	kinds	of	activities	you	were	involved
	in	in	this	realm.
	Food	for	Freedom
	(continued)
	Wyckoff:	Yes,	yes.	Well,	it	all	tied	in,	you	see,	with	the	Food	for	Freedom.
	Now	I'd	better	tell	you	[more]	about	that	little	organization	which	was	set	up
	for	the	purpose	of	stimulating	food	production	during	the	war.	Because	we
	were,	as	you	know,	feeding	ourselves	and	the	rest	of	the	world	practically.
	Jarrell:	Everybody.
	Wyckoff:	So	Food	for	Freedom	was	considered	to	be	a	very	patriotic
	endeavor.	We	set	up	this	incredible	organization	...	I	was	looking	at	the
	names	of	the	people	on	the	letterhead	stationery	and	it	included	the	greatest
	combination	of	people	on	the	advisory	council.	Louis	Adamic,	Amy	Aldrich
	(that's	the	Rockfeller	family),	Ida	Bailey,	Allen,	who	wrote	a	famous
	cookbook,	Julian	Arnold,	Henry	Atkinson	that	was	"one	world"	Atkinson;
	Burkhead,	Esther	Cole	Brunauer,	she	was	a	professor	of	economics
	somewhere	...	I	don't	remember	exactly	who	they	all	were	.	.	.	Eleanor	Coit,
	of	course,	came	from	Worker's	Education	and	was	a	good	friend	of	ours;	she
	was	the	founder	of	the	American	Labor	Education	Service	which	was
	financed	by	the	AF	of	L	and	helped	to	start	the	Pacific	Coast	School	for	Labor
	with	which	I	was	very	active.	Dabney	was	a	newspaperman	from	North
	Carolina;	Harry	Emerson	Fosdick,	as	you	know,	was	a	rip-roaring	preacher
	from	New	York	who	had	a	huge	following	...	I	think	he	was	a
	Congregationalist	.	.	.	but	he	was	a	really	glib	fellow	who	led	a	large	group;
	then	Helen	Gahagan	Douglas,	Congresswoman	from	California	of	course,	you
	know;	Lester	B.	Granger	.	.	.	belonged	to	a	farm	organization;	William	Green
	was	president	of	the	AF	of	L/CIO	.	.	.	Mrs.	Mary	Borden	Harriman,	Daisy
	Harriman.	She	owned	the	building	in	which	Food	for	Freedom	had	its	office
	and	made	a	donation,	I	think,	of	the	rent	probably,	to	us.	As	a	matter	of	fact,	I
	got	into	this	thing	through	Agnes	Inglis	who	lived	upstairs	in	that	building.
	Elizabeth	Herring	who	was	with	the	YWCA;	Bishop	Hobson	of	Phillips	Exeter
	Academy.	Allen	Kline	was	president	of	the	American	Farm	Bureau
	Federation;	Daniel	Koshland,	a	San	Francisco	financier,	Mrs.	Thomas
	Lamont,	of	course,	that's	the	Morgan	partner.	This	incredible	man,	Harold
	Weston,	a	pacifist	and	Quaker,	was	the	Director	and	I	was	the	Assistant
	Director.	Harold	had	served	as	a	Red	Cross	medical	aide	during	the	first


THE	BOMBARDMENT	OF	VALPARAISO	127
	difference	to	the	affairs	of	everyday	life,	had
	sent	to	sea	with	him	a	servant	called	David	who,
	although	the	Commodore	would	have	scorned
	the	idea	of	needing	a	valet,	really	filled	that
	oflBce.	Sometimes	the	Commodore	got	away
	from	David,	and	then	there	would	be	noticeable
	oddities	in	his	attire.	Mrs.	Rodgers	used	to
	say	that	after	her	husband's	behavior	on	their
	wedding	day,	she	was	prepared	for	any	eccen-
	tricity	on	his	part,	for	on	that	momentous	oc-
	casion,	when	all	the	friends	and	relatives	were
	assembled	and	the	bride	was	ready	and	waiting,
	the	groom	was	not	to	be	found.	After	an	awk-
	ward	and	trying	delay,	he	was	finally	discovered
	in	the	kitchen,	entirely	absorbed	in	the	mysteries
	of	a	cookbook.
	Often	when	he	was	pacing	the	deck	during	my
	watch,	his	fine	head	sunk	in	thought,	I	have	seen
	his	face	suddenly	light	up,	and	beckoning	me	over
	to	the	rail,	and	resting	his	arms	comfortably
	upon	it,	he	would	fix	his	eye	upon	me,	and	begin,
	"Now,	this	officer	—	"	and	ramble	along,	until
	I	interrupted	him	with,	"Really,	Commodore,	I
	haven't	the	slightest	idea	of	whom	you	are	talk-
	ing."


WILLIS'S	POEMS.	207
	And	flowers	were	drooping	in	the	light,
	And	lovely	women	wander'	d	there	;
	And	fruits	and	wines	with	lavish	waste
	Were	on	the	marble	tables	piled,
	And	all	that	tempts	the	eye	and	taste,
	And	sets	the	haggard	pulses	wild,
	And	wins	from	care,	and	deadens	sadness,
	Were	there	but	yet	I	felt	no	gladness.
	I	thought	of	thee	I	thought	of	thee
	Each	cunning	change	the	music	play'd,
	Each	fragrant	breath	that	stole	to	me,
	My	wandering	thought	more	truant	made.
	The	lovely	women	pass'd	me	by,
	The	wit	fell	pointless	on	mine	ear,
	I	look'd	on	all	with	vacant	eye.
	I	did	not	see	I	did	not	hear	!
	The	skill'd	musician's	master-tone
	Was	sweet	thy	voice	was	sweeter	far	!
	They	were	soft	eyes	the	lamps	shone	on
	The	eyes	I	worship	gentler	are	!
	The	halls	were	broad,	the	mirrors	tall,
	With	silver	lamps	and	costly	wine
	T	only	thought	how	poor	was	all
	To	one	low	tone	from	lips	like	thine
	I	only	felt	how	well	forgot
	Were	all	the	stars	look	on	and	thy	sweet	eyes	do	nott


THE	YOUNG	CRITIC	163
	P.	S.	I	am	the	son	of	David	Poe,	Jr.,	Mrs.	C.	s
	brother.	l
	George	Poe	sent	the	money,	but	nothing	ap
	pears	to	have	been	done.	The	family	history
	was	continued	by	the	public	marriage	of	Poe	with
	his	cousin,	May	16,	1836.	Poe	secured	Thomas
	W.	Cleland,	the	son-in-law	of	his	former	land
	lady	in	Richmond,	as	his	surety,	who	gave	a
	marriage	bond	as	the	law	required	;	and	Cleland
	was	further	obliging	enough	to	take	oath	before
	the	deputy	clerk,	Charles	Howard,	"that	Vir
	ginia	E.	Clemm	is	of	the	full	age	of	twenty-one
	years,	and	a	resident	of	the	said	city."	2	The
	ceremony	was	performed	on	the	evening	of-	the
	same	day	at	the	boarding-house	of	the	family,
	by	the	Rev.	Amasa	Converse,	a	Presbyterian
	minister,	then	editor	of	the	"Southern	Religious
	Telegraph."	3	Mrs.	Clemm,	whom	the	minister
	remembered	as	"being	polished,	dignified,	and
	agreeable	in	her	bearing,"	was	present,	and	gave
	her	consent	freely	;	the	bride,	too,	had	a	pleasing
	manner,	but	seemed	to	him	very	young.	4	The
	1	Poe	to	George	Poe,	MS.
	2	Hustings	Court	Records,	Richmond,	Virginia.
	3	Southern	Religious	Telegraph,	May	20,	1836;	Richmond
	Enquirer,	May	20,	1836.
	4	Mrs.	F.	B.	Converse	to	the	author,	May	20,	1884.


20	The	Prodigal	Son.
	XXXI
	So	weak	are	all	apart	from	God,
	Sad	wanderers	o'er	the	earth,
	They	lightly	heed	correction's	rod,
	Impugn	their	heavenly	birth.
	But	harder	yet	the	lot	in	store,
	For	Crime	will	scourge	them	more	and	more.
	XXXII
	What	thoughts	within,	conflicting	burned,
	When	pondering	o'er	his	fate,
	To	swineherd's	menial	labor	turned,
	From	rich	and	envied	state	!
	Alas,	the	baneful	fruits	of	sin	!
	Such	prize	do	Pleasure's	suitors	win.
	XXXIII
	Can	Jew	descend	to	this	gross	task,
	Take	charge	of	loathsome	beast,
	Whose	flesh	no	hind	would	stoop	to	ask
	For	meanest	Hebrew	feast	?
	Those	demon-haunted	go-betweens,
	Where	dwelt	the	heathen	Gadarenes	!
	XXXIV
	Behold	a	step	beyond,	Vice	leads
	One	duped	through	self-deceit.


MY	MOTHER	21
	and	we	have	cherished	those	books	ever	since	because	they
	came	from	her."	She	was	only	a	few	months	in	this	little
	log-house	metropolis,	but	the	impress	of	her	life	is	felt	to-day.
	Winters	and	summers	sped	away,	bringing	their	alternate
	varied	sunshine	and	cloud.	There	were	many	partings	in	the
	little	cottage	at	Aylmer,	as	the	loved	and	loving	husband	fre-
	quently	set	out	for	"	the	bush	"	on	his	long	surveying	and
	lumber-locating	expeditions,	but	then	there	were	just	as	many
	home-comings	and	happy	reunions,	when,	for	a	few	days	or
	weeks,	all	too	brief,	the	family	at	Cherry	Cottage	(for	this
	was	the	name	of	the	little	house	my	father	had	built)	was
	reunited	again.
	Just	as	many	home-comings?	Alas!	there	was	one	less,	for
	once	in	the	summer	of	1854,	the	husband	kissed	his	wife	and
	left	their	home	for	the	last	time.	It	was	the	fatal	cholera
	year.	Old	inhabitants	still	recall	it	with	a	shudder.	The
	dread	disease,	imported	from	Europe	with	the	immigrants
	as	I	have	related,	secured	a	dreadful	and	sudden	grip	upon
	the	New	World.
	I	have	already	given	some	details	of	my	father's	death,	and
	of	my	mother's	hurried	journey	to	Three	Rivers	only	to	find
	her	beloved	one	buried	from	her	sight.	She	soon	returned
	to	the	lonely	home	in	Aylmer	and	to	her	two	fatherless	boys.
	But	now	we	see	the	noblest	part	of	a	noble	life,	the	four
	years	and	a	half	of	struggle	for	independence	that	ensued.
	She	had	not	come	from	sturdy	New	England	stock	for	noth-
	ing.	The	blood	of	the	Puritans,	who	loved	independence,
	personal,	financial,	religious,	and	political,	flowed	in	her	veins.
	She	had	not	gone	to	Mary	Lyon's	school	in	vain.
	Necessity	was	laid	upon	her,	and	in	meeting	this	necessity
	in	the	spirit	of	cheerful	courage	and	abounding	love	to	God
	and	his	children	she	found	her	great	opportunity.	She
	opened	a	private	school.	Pupils	flocked	to	Cherry	Cottage.
	They	could	not	pay	much,	and	she	did	not	ask	muchj	but
	enough	to	keep	body	and	soul	together,	to	pay	her	modest


SAPPHO.
	A	LIGHT	upon	the	headland,	flaming	far,
	xjLWe	see	thee	o'er	the	widening	waves	of	time,
	Impassioned	as	a	palpitating	star,
	Big	with	prophetic	destiny	sublime:
	A	momentary	flash	a	burst	of	song
	Then	silence,	and	a	withering	blank	of	pain.
	We	wait,	alas!	in	tedious	vigils	long,
	The	meteor-gleam	that	cometh	not	again!
	Our	eyes	are	heavy,	and	our	visage	wan:
	Our	breath	a	phantom	of	the	darkness	glides
	Ghostlike	to	swell	the	dismal	caravan
	Of	shadows,	where	thy	lingering	splendor	hides,
	Till,	with	our	tears	and	ineffectual	sighs,
	We	quench	the	spark	a	smouldering	hope	supplies.


MEMORIES	AND	STUDIES
	course	to	take	henceforth	is	radically	and
	thoroughly	to	explore	its	significance.
	Looking	back	from	Frederic	Myers	vision
	of	vastness	in	the	field	of	psychological	re
	search	upon	the	programme	as	most	academic
	psychologists	frame	it,	one	must	confess	that
	its	limitation	at	their	hands	seems	not	only
	unplausible,	but	in	truth,	a	little	ridiculous.
	Even	with	brutes	and	madmen,	even	with
	hysterics	and	hypnotics	admitted	as	the
	academic	psychologists	admit	them,	the	offi
	cial	outlines	of	the	subject	are	far	too	neat	to
	stand	in	the	light	of	analogy	with	the	rest	of
	Nature.	The	ultimates	of	Nature,	her
	simple	elements,	if	there	be	such,	may
	indeed	combine	in	definite	proportions	and
	follow	classic	laws	of	architecture;	but	in
	her	proximates,	in	her	phenomena	as	we
	immediately	experience	them,	Nature	is	every
	where	gothic,	not	classic.	She	forms	a	real
	jungle,	where	all	things	are	provisional,	half-
	fitted	to	each	other,	and	untidy.	When	we
	add	such	a	complex	kind	of	subliminal	region
	166


72	THE	SOCIETY	OF	THE	ARMY	OF	THE	POTOMAC
	whose	laurels	will	crown	with	unfading	lustre	the	mem
	ory	of	the	bravest	of	the	brave	;	and	a	great	multitude
	of	gallant	officers	worthy	to	rank	with	these	and	to	lead
	men	as	dauntless	as	the	men	they	fought.	But	by	a
	happy	providence	it	was	decreed	that	the	leader	of	all
	these	leaders	and	of	the	united	armies	should	be	a	pa
	triot	with	whom,	at	the	head	of	a	million	of	victorious
	soldiers,	American	liberty	was	as	secure	as	it	was	with
	Washington,	whose	magnanimity	was	worthy	of	his
	country,	who,	dying,	knew	no	section	and	no	foe,	and
	by	whose	bier,	forecasting	the	happy	day	that	we	be
	hold,	walked,	mourning	and	honoring,	the	lieutenants	of
	Lee,	his	old	foemen	in	the	field.	Might	a	people	not
	justly	consider	itself	the	favorite	of	Heaven	which,	led
	by	Washington	to	independence,	then	torn	by	angry
	domestic	strife,	should	find	itself	brought	to	perfect	and
	enduring	peace,	with	malice	towards	none,	with	charity
	for	all,	by	the	patriotism	of	Lincoln	and	the	magnanim
	ity	of	Grant	?
	Fellow-Americans,	in	telling	any	part	of	the	story	of
	America	we	seem	to	boast.	The	simple	statement	of
	the	truth	sounds	like	a	fairy	tale.	Yet,	could	the	cit
	izen	of	any	country	exalt	his	land	with	more	reason
	than	we	?	What	other	civilized	State	stretches	from
	ocean	to	ocean	with	such	unchallenged	continental	do
	minion,	with	such	a	varied	realm	of	natural	grandeur
	and	beauty,	with	so	vast	a	population,	so	free,	so	intel
	ligent,	so	industrious,	so	contented	?	In	older	coun
	tries,	in	the	soft	air	of	the	storied	past,	amid	accumu
	lated	riches	of	art,	and	literature,	and	long	and	romantic
	legend,	the	finest	flower	of	civilization	may	seem	to


THE	HAUNTED	HOUSE.	135
	Many	who	pass'd	at	evening	felt
	A	superstitious	dread,
	For	gossips	tell	that	there	once	dwelt
	Those	men	who	stole	the	dead.
	And	many	fearful	tales	are	told
	By	some	who	once	lived	there,
	That	make	the	hearers	1	blood	run	cold,
	And	children	gape	and	stare
	How	in	the	deep	and	lone	midnight,
	(The	time	when	spirits	come,)
	Some	awful	spectre,	all	in	white,
	Has	glided	through	the	room	:
	And	how	the	tables,	chairs,	and	tongs,
	The	cups,	and	plates,	and	pans,
	Have	rattl'd,	crack'd,	and	crash'd,	and	rung,
	Uutouch'd	by	human	hands.


xxxvi	BIOGRAPHICAL	NOTE.
	He	took	his	B.A.	on	18	Feb.,	164^,	but	does
	not	appear	to	have	taken	his	M.A.,	though	he
	became	Fellow	of	his	College	(Foster,	Alumni
	Oxon.).	John	Walker	{Sufferings	of	the	Clergy
	(1714),	p.	389)	states	that	he	was	ejected	from	his
	living	on	the	charges	of	"	drunkenness,	immorality,
	and	bearing	arms	for	the	King."	1	This	must	have
	been	in	1649,	under	the	Act	for	the	Propagation	of
	the	Gospel	in	Wales.	There	exists	a	letter	from
	Thomas	Vaughan	to	a	friend	in	London,	dated	from
	"	Newtown,	Ash	Wednesday,	1653	;	"	8	and	it	appears
	from	Jones'	History	of	Brecknockshire	(ii.,	542),	that
	at	one	time	he	lived	with	his	brother	Henry	there.
	The	allusions	to	Henry	More,	to	Murray,	and	to	the
	Isis	and	Thames	seem	to	show	that	he	is	the	Daphnis
	of	his	brother's	Eclogue	(vol.	ii.,	p.	278).	No	trace
	of	his	death	or	burial	can	however	be	now	found	at
	Albury.	Mr.	Gordon	Goodwin	points	out	to	me
	that	Dr.	Samuel	Kem	was	a	somewhat	notorious
	character	(Diet.	Nat.	Biog.^	s.v.	Kent)	:	perhaps	this
	friendship,	together	with	the	personal	confession
	quoted	below,	throws	light	on	the	charges	which
	lost	Vaughan	his	living.	On	the	other	hand
	1	Walker	falls	into	the	curious	confusion	of	supposing	that
	there	were	two	Thomas	Vaughans,	one	rector	of	Llansantffread,
	the	other	of	Newton	St.	Bridget.	But	"	St.	Bridget	"	is	only
	the	English	form	of	the	Welsh	"	Santffread."
	2	Printed	from	the	Rawl.	MSS.	in	Thurloe's	Siate	Papers,
	ii.	130.


57
	Knight:	I	remember	meeting	the	tall	and	attractive	Senator	from	Massachusetts,
	John	F.	Kennedy,	during	the	Inaugural	festivities	for	President
	elect	Eisenhower,	at	a	reception	at	the	lovely	home	of	Kay	and	Philip
	Graham,	publishers	of	the	Washington	Post.	That	descriptive	word
	charisma	Senator	John	F.	Kennedy	certainly	had	it,	as	history	has
	recorded.	We	had	a	delightful	conversation	with	him.	(Jacqueline
	Kennedy	was	not	present.)
	The	governor	and	I	were	devoted	to	the	Grahams.	I	recall	a
	delightful	luncheon	at	the	mansion	just	the	four	of	us.	Subject?
	Politics,	of	course!	We	were	saddened	when	he	died.	His	charming
	Kay	carried	on	and	has	received	many	honors	for	the	Washington	Post
	including	the	Pulitzer	Prize	for	investigation	of	Watergate.
	Another	special	highlight	comes	to	mind.	It	was	during	the
	festivities	of	President	Eisenhower's	Inauguration.	At	a	cocktail
	party	at	the	home	of	Washington	columnist,	Doris	Fleeson,	the	governor
	and	I	had	a	pleasant	conversation	with	the	engaging	Senator	Humphrey!
	During	the	Inaugural	Ball,	the	evening	of	January	21,	1957,	I	was
	flattered	and	pleased	that	Senator	Humphrey	walked	clear	across	the
	ballroom	floor	of	the	armory	and	asked	me	to	dance.	And	he	was	a
	wonderful	dancer.	And,	as	we	all	know,	a	wonderful	human	being.
	He,	like	Goodwin	Knight,	was	referred	to	as	the	Happy	Warrior.
	Although	Governor	Earl	Warren	and	Lieutenant	Governor	Goodwin
	Knight	had	some	differences	in	opinion	while	they	served	together,
	our	personal	relations	were	always	friendly.	We	met	and	visited
	with	them	after	he	became	the	Chief	Justice	on	many	occasions	namely
	the	annual	Santa	Barbara	Fiesta.	Our	mutual	dear	friend	was	Thomas
	Storke,	a	Democrat,	and	owner-publisher	of	the	Santa	Barbara	News
	Press	.	We	also	saw	them	at	the	annual	Tournament	of	Roses	parade
	and	football	game	in	Pasadena.	We	four	were	usually	interviewed
	together	before	the	beautiful	and	exciting	parade!
	Nina	Warren	could	not	have	been	more	thoughtful	and	kind	to	me.
	Her	happiest	days	were	spent	in	the	mansion	where	their	nice	family
	was	raised.	We	both	loved	the	mansion!	In	our	scrapbooks	are	many
	personal	letters	to	me	from	her	many	in	longhand	even	a	post	card
	and	some	lovely	rhinestone	earrings	from	Vienna!	She	also	sent	me
	her	favorite	Modern	Swedish	Cookbook.	It's	inscribed	"To	Virginia
	With	warmest	love	hope	you	will	enjoy	my	favorite	recipes.	Nina."
	January	8,	1957.	I	treasure	this.
	On	January	26,	1957	(I	remember	Goodwin	and	I	commented	remembering
	it	was	General	MacAurthur's	birthday)	we	were	in	Kansas	City,	Missouri.
	A	most	flattering	invitation	was	extended	to	the	governor	to	be	the
	main	speaker	at	a	testimonial	honoring	Frank	"Dad"	Land,	founder	of
	the	DeMolay.	He	was	a	national	figure,	dearly	beloved	for	what	he
	had	done	for	our	youth.	He	did	not	know	Goodwin	Knight	personally,	he
	had	admired	him	from	what	he	had	seen	and	heard	about	him	from	across


102
	and	the	hand	of	a	painter,	so	a	man	cannot	use	the
	materials	of	poetry	without	being	a	poet.	The
	morning	lark	would	in	vain	ascend,	"	leaving	its
	"	stream	of	song"*	below,	unless	a	poet	felt	the
	beautiful	image,	and	was	able	to	set	it	before	us
	with	the	language	and	in	the	spirit	of	a	poet.
	This	part,	therefore,	of	Mr.	Roscoe's	"	fact"	is	a
	truism	I	The	"	sophistry"	consists	in	saying
	"	there	is	720	poetry	in	any	subject."	This	sophistry
	arises	from	confounding	"	poetry"	with	"	adapta-
	"	tion	to	poetry,"	which	were	my	words.	There
	is,	strictly	speaking,	"	720	poetry	in	any	subject"
	any	more	than	there	is	a	tune	in	my	Jiddle,	unless
	you	can	bring	it	out.	But,	my	good	sir,	let	me
	ask	in	your	ear,	do	you	not	think	there	are	some
	subjects	more	adapted	to	poetry	than	others	?
	When	you	say	there	is	no	poetry	in	any	thing,	I
	contend,	this	is	false,	if	"	adaptation"	to	poetry	be
	substituted	for	the	word	"	poetry."	I	purposely,
	and	to	prevent	quibbling,	used	the	very	word
	"	adaptation,"	which	you	evade	by	a	sophism.
	With	respect	to	the	fallacy	of	your	proposition,
	this,	I	think,	I	can	as	easily	prove.	Por,	if	one
	subject	were	not	"	MORE	ADAPTED"	to	poetry	than
	another,	then	Homer	could	equally	shine	in	any
	subject	he	handled.	We	are	moved	to	tears,	and
	deeply	affected,	when	Hector	parts	with	his	child
	*	A	beautiful	and	novel	image,	from	Irving's	Tales	of	a
	Traveller.


14	THE	PARLOR,	CAR.
	Miss	G.	"	Mr.	Richards	!	"
	MR.	E.	"	Why,	you	ve	just	forbid
	den	me	to	say	Lucy	!	You	must	tell
	me,	dearest,	what	I	have	done	to	offend
	you.	The	worst	criminals	are	not	con
	demned	unheard,	and	I	ve	always
	thought	you	were	merciful	if	not	just.
	And	now	I	only	ask	you	to	be	just/
	Miss	G.,	looking	out	of	the	win
	dow.	"You	know	very	well	what
	you	ve	done.	You	can	t	expect	me	to
	humiliate	myself	by	putting	your	of
	fence	into	words."
	MR.	R.	"Upon	my	soul,	I	don	t
	know	what	you	mean	!	I	don	t	know
	what	I	ve	done.	When	you	came	at


POEMS	ON	SEVERAL	OCCASIONS.	at6
	VII.
	TWELVE	years	after	this,	fome	fcores	of	diflentera
	To	the	northernmoil	diitrid	came,	fccking	adventures;
	Outdone	by	the	bifhops,	thofe	great	faggot	fighters;
	They	left	them	to	ftrut,	with	their	caffocks	and	mitres.
	Thus	banifh'd	forever,	and	leaving	the	fod,
	The	firft	land	they	faw	was	the	pitch	of	Cape	Cod,
	Where	famiih'd	with	hunger	and	quaking	with	cold
	They	plann'd	the	New-Plymouth	lo	ca^l'd	from	the	old.
	They	were,	witnout	doubt,	'a	delightful	colleclion	j
	Some	came	to	be	rid	of	a	Stuart's	direction,
	Some	faiPd	with	a	view	to	dominion	and	riches,
	Some	to	pray	without	book,	and	a	few	to	hang	witches*
	Some,	came	on	tho	Indians	to	{bed	a	new	light,
	Convinc'd	long	before	that	their	own	muft	be	right.
	And	that	all	who	had	died	in	the	centuries	pail
	On	the	devil's	lee	Diore	were	eternally	caft.
	VIII.
	THESE	exiles	were	form'd	in	a	whimfical	mould,
	And	were	aw'd	by	their	priefts,	like	the	Hebrews	of	old;
	Diiclaim'd	all	pretences	to	jefting	and	laughter.
	And	figh'd	their	lives	through,	to	be	happy	hereafter,
	On	a	crown	immaterial	'their'hearts	were	intent,
	They	look'd	towards	Zion,	wherever	they	went,
	Did	all	things	in	hopes	of	a	future	reward,
	And	worry'd	mankind	for	the	fake	of	the	Lord,
	With	rigour	exceiTive	they	ftrengthen'd	their	reign,
	Their	laws	were	conceiv'd	in	the	ill-natur'd	flrain.
	With	myftical	meanings	the	faint	was	perplext,
	And	the	flefh	and	the	devil	were	{lain	by	a	tex,t.
	The	body	was	fcourgM	for	the	good	of	the	foul.
	All	folly	difcourag'd	by	peevifli	controul,
	A	knot	on	the	head	was	the	fign	of	no	grace,
	And	the	Pope	and	his	comrade	were	piclur'd	in
	A	flove	in	their	churches,	or	pe\vs	Hn'd	with	greea*
	Were-	horrid	to	think	of,	much	icf>	to	be	feen,
	Their	bodi-s	were	warm'd	with	the	linings	of	Iwe,
	And	the/r^	was	fufficbnt	that	Ikfh'd	from	above.
	Twas	a	crime	to	ailert	that	ths	moon	w	3	opaque,
	To	fay	the	earth'	mov'J,	VFSS	to	merit	the	flake;
	And	he	that	could	tell	aa	cclipfe	was	to	be,
	1m	the	collsys	f	Satan	had	took	his	deg-rw.


Can	<&ob	Jf	urntfify	a	Cable	in
	From	Thy	table	richly	laden,
	Mother	mine,
	With	th'	eternal	bread	of	God
	And	royal	wine,
	Let	me	look	to	Thee	alone,
	Give	me	bread,	remove	the	stone,
	Thus	by	Thee,	O	Father,	fed,
	Give	me	ever	substance-bread.
	Living,	pure,	reviving	waters,
	Mother	mine,
	Flow	from	Thee,	Thou	Source	immortal,
	Mind	divine,
	Can	I	thirst	when	Thou	art	near,
	Can	I	hunger,	can	I	fear?
	No!	I	find	my	all	in	Thee,
	And	Thy	love	hath	made	me	free.
	1	06


XIV
	Leaves	of	Grass
	CALAMUS	continued
	For	You,	O	Democracy
	These	I	Singing	in	Spring	.
	Not	Heaving	from	my	Ribb	d	Breast	Only
	Of	the	Terrible	Doubt	of	Appearances
	The	Base	of	All	Metaphysics
	Recorders	Ages	Hence
	When	I	Heard	at	the	Close	of	the	Day	.
	Are	You	the	New	Person	Drawn	toward	Me
	Roots	and	Leaves	Themselves	Alone
	Not	Heat	Flames	up	and	Consumes
	Trickle	Drops	.....
	City	of	Orgies
	Behold	this	Swarthy	Face
	I	Saw	in	Louisiana	a	Live-Oak	Growing
	To	a	Stranger	....
	This	Moment	Yearning	and	Thoughtful
	I	Hear	it	was	Charged	against	Me
	The	Prairie-	Grass	Dividing	.
	When	I	Peruse	the	Conquer	d	Fame
	We	Two	Boys	together	Clinging
	A	Promise	to	California
	Here	the	Frailest	Leaves	of	Me	.
	No	Labour-saving	Machine	.
	A	Glimpse	.....
	A	Leaf	for	Hand	in	Hand
	Earth,	My	Likeness	....
	I	Dream	d	in	a	Dream
	What	Think	You	I	Take	My	Pen	in	Hand?
	To	the	East	and	to	the	West
	Sometimes	with	One	I	Love
	To	a	Western	Boy	....
	Fast-Anchor	d	Eternal	O	Love!
	Among	the	Multitude
	O	You	whom	I	Often	and	Silently	Come
	That	Shadow	My	Likeness
	Full	of	Life	now
	Salut	au	Monde!	.
	Song	of	the	Open	Road
	Crossing	Brooklyn	Ferry
	Song	of	the	Answerer
	Our	Old	Feuillage
	A	Song	of	Joys
	Song	of	the	Broad-Axe
	Song	of	the	Exposition
	Song	of	the	Redwood-Tree
	A	Song	for	Occupations
	A	Song	of	the	Rolling	Earth
	Youth,	Day,	Old	Age,	and	Night
	BIRDS	OF	PASSAGE-
	Song	of	the	Universal
	Pioneers!	O	Pioneers!
	To	You	.
	France	the	18th	Year	of	These	States
	Myself	and	Mine
	Year	of	Meteors	(1859-60)
	With	Antecedents
	A	Broadway	Pageant


LATIN	VERSE	COMPOSITION.	79
	Here	it	may	be	pointed	out	that,	whereas	metaphors,
	that	is	to	say	compressed	similes,	are	appropriate	to	prose,
	poetry	and	more	especially	Latin	poetry	prefers	the	simile
	at	full	length.	The	reason	is	readily	deduced	from	the	de-
	finition	of	poetry	and	its	object.	The	primary	object	of
	poetry	being	to	please,	it	has	more	leisure	for	these	figures
	of	speech	which	contribute	to	pleasure.	Besides,	a	simile	is
	more	ancient	and	simple	than	metaphor	(which	is	but	simile
	compressed	by	constant	use),	and	therefore	poetry,	being
	both	simple	and	archaic,	naturally	prefers	the	simile;	and
	Latin	poetry,	being	more	simple	and	ancient	than	English
	poetry,	manifests	this	preference	still	more	strongly	than
	English	poetry.	It	must	be	added,	that	many	metaphors,
	which	have	become	so	embedded	in	our	language	(in	poetry
	as	well	as	prose),	that	they	are	scarcely	recognized	as
	metaphors,	do	not	admit	of	being	translated	literally	into
	Latin.	All	the	more	necessary	is	it	that	Latin	poetry	should
	utilise	its	natural	compensations,	viz.	simile,	personification,
	and	allusion.
	Two	other	minor	consequences	follow	from	the	pic-
	turesqueness	of	poetry.	In	the	first	place,	since	poetry
	is	to	be	picturesque,	it	will	indulge	more	freely	than	prose
	in	picturesque	epithets,	"the	red	gold,"	"the	blue	sky,"
	"the	green	pastures,"	which	are	sometimes	merely	orna-
	mental	epithets,	as	in	English	Ballad	poetry,	but	at	other
	times	serve	as	simpler	substitutes	for	more	complex	con-
	structions,	such	as	"the	redness	of	gold,"	"the	blue	of	the
	sky,"	&c.	In	the	next	place,	since	adverbs	cannot	be	pic-
	turesque,	poetry	must	substitute	for	adverbs	adverbial	phrases
	which	shall	appeal	to	the	senses;	and	hence	the	bird	and
	the	ship	will	not	move	"quickly"	in	verse,	but	the	one
	"with	rapid	pinions",	the	other	"with	full	sail";	the	lark


22	"	I'LL	BE	THY	BRIDE."
	This	golden	band	weighs	on	my	brow	like	lead,
	This	dress	seems	like	a	covering	for	the	dead
	It	is	my	bridal	robe	!	these	jewels	hide
	A	broken	heart	;	yet	I	will	be	thy	bride	!
	Why	is	my	heart	so	lifeless	and	so	cold	?
	I'm	not	the	first	who	sold	herself	for	gold	;
	I'm	not	the	first	who	felt	a	love	divine
	In	vain	then	bowed	the	knee	at	Mammon's	shrine.
	My	hand	goes	with	my	vow	but	not	my	Jieart
	Oh,	haunting	dreams,	I	pray	ye	now	depart	!
	Away,	sweet	memories	!	here	at	my	side
	Come,	chosen	lover	!	I	will	be	thy	bride.
	'Twill	be	a	bonnie	sight	when	you	and	I
	Stand	at	yon	altar,	and	I	breathe	the	lie
	Which	binds	me	thine	through	all	life's	weary	years
	Right	merrily	will	sound	those	village	cheers.
	And	he	will	call	me	by	another	name
	Than	that	my	childhood	knew.	I'll	smile	the	same	!
	For	I	have	cast	my	love,	my	truth	aside
	For	tJiee	!	and	perjured	thus	PU	be	thy	bride	!


14
	paper	too,	I	don	t	really	remember.	But	she	was	always
	syndicated.
	Riess:	Writing	as	Martha	Hartcertainly	the	people	on	the	paper	knew
	who	she	was	.
	M.	Foster:	Oh,	of	course.	I	don	t	know	why	she--I	think	she	took	that
	pseudonym	when	she	was	still	in	Wyoming.
	Riess:	She	probably	didn	t	want	any	accusations	of	nepotism?
	M.	Foster:	Well,	my	mother	was	kind	of	a	snob,	in	the	sense	that	she	loved
	literature,	and	I	think	she	wrote	under	a	pseudonym	because	she
	didn	t	think	that	the	kind	of	writing	she	did	for	the	newspaper
	was	prestigious	in	a	literary	senseit	was	popular	stuff.	Her
	Martha	Hart	poems	were	about	the	daily	lives	of	housewives	and
	children,	things	like	that.	They	were	jingly	sort	of	rhymes.
	Riess:	Condescensions	to	the	popular	taste?
	M.	Foster:	Oh,	not	condescensions!	She	enjoyed	writing	them,	and	she	was
	good	at	thinking	up	themes.	But	she	didn	t,	I	don	t	think,
	want	herself	thought	of	as	sort	of	--Edgar	Guest,	was	the
	popular	syndicated	poet,	and	she	really	didn	t	want	to	be	in
	the	same	league	as	Edgar	Guest	under	her	own	name.
	Riess:	Did	she	write	other	things	that	she	thought	of	as	literature?
	M.	Foster:	Yes,	her	book	page	in	the	Des	Moines	Sunday	paper.	That	she
	wrote	under	her	own	name.	And	then	she	began	publishing	books.
	But	they	were	pretty	much	popular	books	.
	My	mother	had	a	friend,	Louise	Weaver,	who	wrote	a
	nutrition	column,	recipe	column,	and	she	and	my	mother	decided
	they	would	write	a	cookbook.	My	mother	s	idea	was	to	write	a
	little	story	that	went	along	with	the	recipes.	So	Louise
	Weaver	and	my	sister	Florence	--whom	I	called	Bunny,	so	I	have
	to	call	her	Bunny	here,	I
	set	out	for	Colorado.
	can	t	call	her	Florenceand	Mumsie
	"Mums	ie"	that	s	another	story.	Bunny	and	I,	when	we
	were	about	three	or	four	years	old,	decided	to	call	our	mother
	"Mumsie."	She	didn	t	like	to	be	called	"Mama,"	so	we	were
	trying	to	decide	what	to	call	her	that	she	would	agree	to.	We
	thought	about	"Mummy"	and	then	we	thought,	no	that	s	an
	Egyptian	mummy.	(At	that	age,	how	we	knew	about	Egyptian
	mummies	I
	"Mumsie."
	"Mumsie."
	can	t	say,	but	we	did.)	And	so	we	decided	on
	She	said	that	was	fine.	So	we	always	called	her


15
	Anyway,	we	went	out	to	Estes	Park	on	the	train,	Louise
	and	Mumsie	and	Bunny	and	me.	We	had	two	lower	berthsthey
	didn	t	have	much	money-	-and	I	had	to	share	one	with	Louise,	and
	Bunny	had	to	share	one	with	Mumsie.	But	Louise	was	a	young,
	fat	womana	good	food	editor!	--and	on	the	first	night	I	fell
	out	of	the	berth	onto	the	floor	of	the	train	[laughs].	So	they
	made	Bunny	switch,	made	Bunny	sleep	with	Louise	after	that.
	That	first	train	voyage,	that	was	a	real	adventure.
	Riess:	And	how	old	were	you?
	M.	Foster:	About	seven.
	We	got	to	Denver	and	we	stayed	in	a	hotel	called	the
	Oxford	Hotel	that	was	across	the	street	from	the	railroad
	station,	that	first	night.	And	then	we	took	an	open	bus	that
	took	people	up	to	the	park	terribly	exciting	and	we	stayed	in
	a	hotel	out	by	itself	called	the	Horseshoe	Inn.	The	West	was
	oh!	such	a	wonderful	experience!	The	mountains,	and	the
	stones,	the	rocks--!	just	and	the	streams!	All	of	the
	mountain	atmosphere	just	got	into	my	blood,	I	just	loved	it!
	Riess:	So,	you	were	going	to	Estes	Park
	M.	Foster:	--so	they	could	write.	They	were	getting	off	by	themselves	to
	write	their	cookbook.	Bunny	and	I-	-Louise	wasn	t	married	then,
	had	no	children,	so	we	were	just	little	appendages.
	Riess:	Why	weren	t	you	left	home?
	M.	Foster:	Who	would	have	looked	after	us	at	home?
	Riess:	One	of	the	sisters?
	M.	Foster:	My	mother	s	sisters?	My	mother	was	the	oldest	of	six	children.
	Her	next	youngest	brother	was	quite	close	to	her	in	age	he	was
	Russell	Cowles,	and	he	became	a	painter.	Then	came	Bertha,	who
	was	seven	years	younger	than	my	mother,	so	there	was	about	a
	five-year	gap	between	Russell	and	Bertha.	Bertha	married	an
	Algona	man	and	lived	in	Algona.	She	was	married	when	I	was
	two.	Since	they	lived	in	Algona,	they	did	come	to	Des	Moines
	some,	so	we	saw	them,	and	we	went	to	Algona	sometimes	too,	but
	she	was	not	there.	And	the	next	youngest	sister	was	Florence
	called	"Flo"--my	sister	hated	being	called	"Flo"	because	she
	wasn	t	that	fond	of	Aunt	Flo.
	I	don	t	think	it	ever	would	have	occurred	to	my	mother	to
	leave	us	behind.	Dad-	-we	always	had	a	maid	in	my	childhood,


35
	day	off,	Thursday	afternoon;	I	guess	that	was	standard,	every
	maid	had	Thursday	off.	So	we	always	had	baked	beans	and	Boston
	brown	bread	on	Thursday	because	that	could	be	made	ahead	and
	just	left	in	the	oven	or	heated,	or	something.
	Riess:	You	just	opened	two	cans,	right?
	M.	Foster:	Oh,	no,	no.	Never	opened	cans.	We	always	had	maids	who	were
	good	at	bread.	The	Swedish	woman	who	worked	for	us	when	I	was
	very	little	was	a	wonderful	baker.	No,	we	had	very	good	food.
	My	mother,	after	all,	wrote	cookbooks	[laughs].	12
	12	I	should	say	here	that	Mumsie	was	very	interested	in	food	and
	recipes.	She	loved	planning	meals	for	our	maid	to	cook.	She	never	went	to
	the	groceryshe	didn	t	driveand	ordered	everything	over	the	phone.	MF


56
	herebecause	the	members	give	talks.	But	the	thing	about	the
	Woman	Geographers	is	that	these	women	that	belong	to	the	Woman
	Geographers	are	all	actively	doing	something	that	has	some
	geographical	focus--some	part	of	the	worldso	the	talks	are
	terribly	interesting	because	they	are	very	different	topics,
	but	always	geographically	oriented	somehow.	The	Proteus	Club
	is	sort	of	like	that,	in	that	the	people	used	what	they	knew	or
	what	they	got	interested	in,	to	give	their	talks,	but	it	was
	not	as	intellectual.
	My	mother	and	her	secretary	wrote	a	book	together.	My
	mother	wrote	all	kinds	of	books,	usually	with	somebody,	like
	her	cookbooks	that	were	with	her	nutritionist	friend.	But	her
	secretary	was	a	very	bright	woman	that	she	talked	to	a	great
	deal,	and	I	guess	belonged	to	some	women	s	organizations.	So
	they	decided	to	write	a	book	called,	How	to	be	a	Clubwoman.
	Bunny,	come	to	think	about	it,	seemed	to	follow	in	this
	path,	because	Bunny,	having	organized	a	lot	of	things	and	being
	on	a	lot	of	boards	of	things	she	organized,	got	invited	to	be
	on	boards	.	Then	she	began	being	the	authority	on	how	to	run
	boards.	The	paying	job	that	she	finally	had	in	San	Francisco
	was	about	boards	consulting	for	boards.	So	that	was	sort	of
	like	my	mother	writing	How	to	be	a	Clubwoman.
	My	grandmother	belonged	to	the	D.A.R.	and	the	Colonial
	Dames.	Colonial	Dames	is	more	exclusive	than	the	D.A.R.	And
	my	grandmother	resigned	from	the	D.A.R.	when	they	wouldn	t	let
	Marian	Anderson	sing.	George	s	mother	and	father	were	involved
	in	that	too,	which	is	interesting.
	A	Year	of	Rituals	and	Celebrations
	Riess:	A	theme	we	need	to	return	to:	you	said	that	in	your	childhood
	the	year	was	marked	by	the	celebrations.
	M.	Foster:	Yes,	I	can	go	through	the	whole	thing	because	it	was	so
	interesting.	I	could	start	with	New	Year	s,	but	New	Year	s
	wasn	t	all	that	important	in	my	childhood	because	I	couldn	t
	stay	up.	You	d	hear	the	whistles	blowing	all	over	town	and	so
	it	was	exciting.	After	January,	then	my	birthday	is	the	first
	of	February.	Our	birthdays	were	celebrated	in	a	way	that	I
	don	t	really	approve	of:	on	Bunny	s	birthday	I	was	given	gifts,
	as	well	as	Bunny,	and	Bunny	on	mine.	Bunny	got	slightly	more
	gifts	or	something	more	special	if	it	was	her	birthday,	but	I
	was	always	included.


80
	Mike,	of	course,	was	very	successful	with	the	newspapers,
	and	starting	Look	magazine	and	all	these	things.	He	started
	Look	when	Bunny	and	I	were	adolescent,	and	for	the	first	issues
	of	Look	that	were	going	to	come	outwe	were	sort	of	the	trial
	balloon	because	he	thought	teenage	girls	were	more	like	the
	kind	of	audience	he	was	trying	to	touch.	People	who	didn	t
	have	very	high	standards!	We	were	his	guinea	pigs.	That	was
	flattering	in	a	way,	and	we	enjoyed	it,	but	in	a	way	it	was
	sort	of	a	put	down,	that	we	didn	t	have	literary	tastes.
	Anyway,	everything	that	Mike	did	was	very	much	admired	by
	his	sisters	all	the	way	through	his	life.	They	had	two	other
	brothers,	but	Mike	was	the	darling.	He	was	the	little	brother,
	you	know,	so	he	could	do	no	wrong.
	Then	came	the	day	at	Sunday	dinner	at	my	grandparents
	house.	After	Sunday	dinner,	we	were	all	sitting	around	in	the
	sort	of	sunroom--the	whole	family	was	there,	and	Bunny	and	I
	were	there.	And	Mike	said,	"There	s	something	I	want	to	tell
	you,	and	I	ll	tell	you	now,	and	you	can	say	anything	you	want
	to	about	it.	But	I	want	that	to	be	the	end	of	it.	Have	your
	say	now."	And	then	he	said,	"Helen	and	I	are	getting	a
	divorce."	We	all	gasped.	It	was	a	terrible	shock	to	me	and
	Bunny	because	we	had	thought	this	was	the	perfect	couple,	you
	know.
	Riess:
	M.	Foster:
	Then	everyone	began	to	speak	up.	My	father,	who	was
	especially	fond	of	Helen	said,	"Well,	if	we	re	to	say	what	we
	think,	I	think	it	s	just	terrible."	And	he	went	on	and	made
	quite	a	speech	about	how	he	felt	about	it.	Betty,	who	always
	was	kind	of	jealous	about	Helen,	began	saying	unpleasant	things
	about	her.	Then	other	people	defended	Helen.	It	was	kind	of
	an	argumentative	scene.
	An	extraordinary	scene.
	Well,	this	was	kind	of	typical	of	the	family	[laughs].	You	d
	bring	things	to	the	family.	You	d	discuss	it,	and	then	that	s
	it.
	Riess:	Did	you	fantasize	a	lot	about	marriage?
	Foster:	Yes,	and	I	told	you	about	how	Bunny	and	I	played	that	we	were
	the	Duchess	and	the	Baroness.	And	the	cookbooks	my	mother
	wrote	with	her	friend,	the	story	behind	the	recipes	was	of	Bob
	and	Bettina,	and	they	had	the	perfect	marriage.	They	had	two


88
	nature	to	us,	because	of	the	kinds	of	interaction	that	my
	parents	had,	I	guess.
	Household	Management	Models
	M.	Foster:	Although	my	mother	was	interested	in	food,	and	she	wrote	these
	cookbooks,	she	always	had	a	maid	who	cooked.	She	discussed	in
	the	morning	what	we	would	have,	and	she	ordered	the	groceries
	over	the	telephone,	so	she	never	went	to	the	grocery	storeshe
	didn	t	drive.	This	pattern	of	ordering	groceries	was	so
	ingrained	that	when	I	was	first	married	I	always	ordered	the
	groceries	over	the	telephone	too.
	Bunny	and	I	didn	t	learn	a	thing	about	cooking.	We
	weren	t	asked	to	do	anything	really	useful	around	the	house.
	Riess:	Did	you	hang	around	in	the	kitchen?
	M.	Foster:	Yes.	The	cook	was	not	just	a	cook,	she	was	a	maidall	purpose
	maid.	The	first	one	I	remember	was	Anna,	and	then	we	had	a
	series	that	I	don	t	remember	very	well,	and	then	we	had	one
	named	Alice	that	was	about	the	time	we	went	to	camp	and	she
	had	an	influence	on	us	because	she	had	a	boyfriend	and	she	was
	sort	of	into	popular	culture.	She	played	the	banjo.	So	we	sat
	around	with	her.
	These	people	lived	in-	-we	had	a	maid	s	room.	Our	house
	only	had	one	bathroom	in	the	upstairs,	and	then	downstairs	a
	lavatory.	All	of	us,	including	the	maid,	used	the	one
	bathroom,	there	wasn	t	any	separation,	except	at	meals,	so	we
	were	together	a	great	deal.	Some	maids	we	enjoyed	more	than
	others,	but	we	learned	nothing.
	Bunny,	when	she	was	engaged	to	get	married,	came	home
	from	Stanford,	and	she	was	trying	to	learn	a	little	bit	about
	cooking	that	summer.	I	was	going	with	George,	and	George	came
	from	his	home	to	visit	me	in	Des	Moines	after	he	graduated.	(I
	still	had	a	year	left.)	He	always	joked	about	how	Bunny	had
	said,	"Can	you	bake	new	potatoes?"	He	thought	that	was	the
	most	ridiculous	question.	Well,	I	still	don	t	think	it	s
	ridiculous	you	obviously	can	but	you	don	t	usually.	Sometimes
	things	struck	George	as	odd	that	I	thought	were	perfectly
	normal.
	Riess:
	How	did	you	learn	to	manage?


ANGULAR	AND	COMPOUND	INDEXING	67
	Compound	Indexing.	To	obtain	divisions	which	are	beyond
	the	range	of	simple	indexing	a	device	known	as	compound
	indexing	is	sometimes	employed.
	In	this	method	the	index	crank	is	first	turned	a	definite
	amount	in	the	regular	way,	and	then	the	stop	pin	holding
	the	index	plate	is	disengaged	and	the	index	plate	is	turned
	either	in	the	same	direction	or	in	the	opposite	direction.	The
	indexing	is	thus	compounded	of	two	separate	movements
	which	are,	in	reality,	two	simple-indexing	operations.
	Compound	indexing	should	be	used	only	when	there	is	no	other	con-
	venient	way	of	obtaining	the	division.	This	is	because	of	the	chances	of
	error	due	to	the	fact	that	the	holes	must	be	counted	when	moving	the
	index	plate,	as	will	be	seen	in	the	example	below.	The	method	has	been
	largely	superseded	by	the	differential	method	explained	on	page	70.
	If,	for	example,	the	index	crank	of	a	B.	&	S.	dividing	head
	is	turned	40	holes	on	the	18-hole	circle,	that	is,	two	revo-
	lutions	plus	four	holes,	and	then,	the	stop	pin	being	disen-
	gaged,	the	index	plate	is	turned	40	holes	on	the	19-hole	circle,
	that	is,	two	revolutions	plus	two	holes,	in	the	same	direction,
	the	two	movements	will	cause	the	spindle	holding	the	work
	to	make	^	+	Jg,	or	-f^	of	a	revolution.
	If,	however,	the	index	plate	is	turned	in	the	opposite
	direction	from	the	index	crank,	the	spindle	will	make	y	1	^	Jg,
	or	g^,	of	a	revolution.	Since	the	two	revolutions	of	the
	index	crank	and	the	index	plate	are	in	opposite	directions,
	they	offset	each	other,	and	the	same	result	is	obtained	by
	moving	the	index	crank	four	holes	on	the	18-hole	circle	in
	one	direction	and	the	index	plate	two	holes	on	the	19-hole
	circle	in	the	opposite	direction.
	Thus,	by	combining	the	two	movements	we	can	obtain
	342	divisions	with	the	index	plates	listed	on	page	65.	With
	simple	indexing	we	should	have	required	a	plate	with	a
	circle	of	171	holes.


"THE	MAGIC	FLUTE"
	to	beauty,	and	in	which	all	the	figures	could	be
	harmonious	and	yet	distinct,	and	that	is	the	Chinese
	world	as	we	know	it	in	Chinese	art.	For	in	that
	there	is	something	fantastic	yet	spiritual,	something
	comic	but	beautiful,	a	mixture	of	the	childish	and
	the	sacred,	which	might	say	to	the	eye	what	Mozart's
	music	says	to	the	ear.	Only	in	Chinese	art	could
	Papageno	be	a	saint;	only	in	that	world,	which
	ranges	from	the	willow-pattern	plate	to	the	Rishi
	in	his	mystical	ecstasy	in	the	wilderness,	could	the
	soul	of	Mozart,	with	its	laughter	and	its	wisdom,
	be	at	home.	That	too	is	the	world	in	which	flowers
	and	all	animals	are	of	equal	import	with	mankind;
	it	is	the	world	of	dragons	in	which	the	serpent	of
	the	first	act	would	not	seem	to	be	made	of	paste
	board,	and	in	which	all	the	magic	would	not	seem
	to	be	mere	conjuring.	In	that	world	one	might
	have	beautiful	landscapes	and	beautiful	figures	to
	suit	them.	There	Sarastro	would	not	be	a	stage
	magician,	but	a	priest;	from	Papageno	and	the
	lovers	to	him	would	be	only	the	change	from	Ming
	to	Sung,	which	would	seem	no	change	at	all.	Chinese
	art,	in	fact,	is	the	world	of	the	magic	flute,	the
	world	where	silver	bells	hang	on	every	flowering
	tree	and	the	thickets	are	full	of	enchanted	night
	ingales.	It	is	the	world	of	imps	and	monsters,
	and	yet	of	impassioned	contemplation,	where	the
	sage	sits	in	a	moonlit	pavilion	and	smiles	like	a
	lover,	and	where	the	lovers	smile	like	sages;	where
	everything	is	to	the	eye	what	the	music	of
	Mozart	is	to	the	ear.


DISEASES	OF	THE	GENERATIVE	ORGANS.	363
	putrid	fermentation.	This,	however,	is	less	requisite	in	the
	mare	than	in	the	cow,	in	which	the	prevalent	contagious
	abortion	must	he	counteracted	by	the	persistent	local	use	of
	antiseptics.	After	abortion	a	careful	hygiene	is	demanded,
	especially	in	the	matter	of	pure	air	and	easily	digestible
	food.	The	mare	should	not	be	served	again	for	a	month	or
	longer,	and	in	no	case	until	after	all	discharge	from	the
	vulva	has	ceased.
	SYMPTOMS	OF	PARTURITION.
	As	the	period	of	parturition	approaches	the	swelling	of
	the	udder	bespeaks	the	coming	event,	the	engorgement	in
	exceptional	cases	extending	forward	on	the	lower	surface	of
	the	abdomen	and	even	into	the	hind	limbs.	For	about	a
	week	a	serous	fluid	oozes	from	the	teat	and	concretes	as	a
	yellow,	wax-like	mass	around	its	orifice.	About	twenty-four
	hours	before	the	birth	this	gives	place	to	a	whitish,	milky
	liquid,	which	falls	upon	and	mats	the	hairs	on	the	inner
	sides	of	the	legs.	Another	symptom	is	enlargement	of	the
	vulva,	with	redness	of	its	lining	membrane	and	the	escape
	of	glairy	mucus.	The	belly	droops,	the	flanks	fall	in,	and	the
	loins	may	even	become	depressed.	Finally	the	mare	becomes
	uneasy,	stops	feeding,	looks	anxious,	whisks	her	tail,	and	may
	lie	down	and	rise	again.	In	many	mares	this	is	not	repeated,
	but	the	mare	remains	down;	violent	contractions	of	the	ab-
	dominal	muscles	ensue;	after	two	or	three	pains	the	water-
	bags	appear	and	burst,	followed	by	the	fore	feet	of	the	foal,
	with	the	nose	between	the	knees,	and	by	a	few	more	throes
	the	foetus	is	expelled.	In	other	cases	the	act	is	accomplished
	standing.	The	whole	act	may	not	occupy	more	than	five	or
	ten	minutes.	This,	together	with	the	disposition	of	the
	mare	to	avoid	observation,	renders	the	act	one	that	is	rarely
	seen	by	the	attendants
	The	navel	string,	which	connects	the	foal	to	the	mem-
	branes,	is	ruptured	when	the	foetus	falls	to	the	ground,	or
	when	the	mare	rises,	if	she	has	been	down,	and	the	mem-
	branes	are	expelled	a	few	minutes	later.


CHAP,	n]	NEW	FORCES	IN	POETRY	29
	The	glory	of	Man	is	that	he	quits	himself	boldly	and	is
	strong,	living	out	his	life	to	the	fulness	in	opposition	to	the
	decadent	altruism	of	Christianity.	Thus	Davidson	sub
	stituted	for	the	forsaken	dogmas	of	Calvinism	dogmas	of
	his	own,	as	triumphant,	ungraceful	and	unyielding.	His
	later	poetry	is	the	voice	of	one	crying	in	the	wilderness
	exhorting	man	to	forbear	from	repentance,	to	be	his	own
	god	and	kingdom	of	heaven.	Nevertheless,	he	constantly
	declared	that	he	came	not	to	supply	a	new	metaphysic
	or	philosophy.	"It	is	a	new	poetry	I	begin,	a	new
	cosmogony,	a	new	habitation	for	the	imagination	of	men."
	And	by	a	new	poetry	Davidson	meant	of	poetry	that	it
	should	be	a	crescive	art,	a	statement	of	the	present	and
	of	the	future,	that	it	should	be	a	poetry	not	of	pleasant
	glades,	of	nightingales,	of	fair	women	seated	like	pensive
	goddesses	in	bowers,	but	a	poetry	of	Fleet	Street,	of
	railway	stations,	of	the	factory,	of	the	applications	of
	science	;	and,	so	far,	Davidson	may	be	regarded	as	the
	English	precursor	of	Marinetti	and	the	continental	poets
	of	Futurism.	As	the	Futurist	painter	attempts	to
	convey	in	pigment	motion	and	the	combined	emotions	of
	artist	and	spectator,	so	Davidson	attempted	to	convey	in
	poetry	the	cosmic	emotion	conscious	of	itself	in	individual
	men.	This	was	the	end	of	his	Testaments	and	tragedies
	especially	of	The	Theatrocrat	(1905).
	In	later	years	he	found	the	ornament	of	rhyme	a
	limitation	too	narrow	to	admit	the	declamatory	announce
	ment	of	this	cosmic	emotion.	In	a	note	appended	to
	Holiday	and	other	Poems	he	writes	of	a	poetry	which	is,
	"	the	will	to	live	and	the	will	to	power,"	a	poetry	which
	has	found	its	greatest	expression	for	all	time	in	English
	blank	verse,	"	the	subtlest,	most	powerful,	and	most
	various	organ	of	utterance	articulate	faculty	has	pro
	duced.'	'	In	the	writing	of	blank	verse	he	found	the	greatest
	satisfaction	and	joy	of	his	hard	and	embittered	life.
	Davidson's	note	'	On	Poetry	'	is	often	incoherent,	but	it
	is	a	stirring	piece	of	writing,	for	hardly	another	poet	has
	declared	his	faith	in	accents	so	rapt	and	believing	as	his.
	Yet	it	cannot	be	maintained	that	his	blank	verse	is	of
	the	finest	order.	Rhetoric	is	the	bane	of	blank	verse,
	and	it	caught	Davidson	in	its	toils.	There	are	passages,
	and	not	a	few,	wherein	he	rises	to	writing	as	flexible,


94	POETRY	[PART	i
	the	poem	would	ever	have	been	written	but	for	The
	Dynasts,	and	a	conviction	that	whereas	in	verse	and	magic
	of	language	both	largely	fail,	there	is	an	epic	strength	in	Mr.
	Hardy's	poem	to	which	Mr.	Doughty	never	wholly	attains.
	The	Clouds	(1912)	is	an	epilogue	to	The	Cliffs	in	fifteen
	blank-	verse	poems.	The	epigraph	from	Spenser	"	All
	places	full	of	forraine	powers	"	gauges	the	state	of	Mr.
	Doughty	's	mind.	England	is	overrun	with	invading
	armies	till	the	colonies	come	to	her	assistance.	Mr.
	Doughty	's	intention	is	good,	he	is	not	wholly	without
	the	gifts	of	the	prophet,	but	for	the	sake	of	his	poetry
	it	is	a	matter	for	regret	that	he	should	be	heavily	over
	weighted	with	his	theme.	His	immense	gain	in	poetry
	is	manifest	when	he	escapes	his	obsession,	as	in	his	picture
	of	the	elves'	banquet	in	The	Cliffs	and	also	in	the	splendid
	opening	passage	of	'	The	Muses'	Garden	'	in	The	Clouds,
	the	finest	example	of	his	writing	in	blank	verse.
	Mr.	Doughty	's	poetry	in	the	whole	is	an	example	of
	varied	experiment	in	epic	and	literary	drama	;	and,
	further,	though	he	borrows	his	style	and	idiom	from	the
	most	romantic	of	poets,	his	temper	is	classical,	and	the
	interest	of	his	writings,	especially	of	The	Dawn	in	Britain,
	is	their	intellectual	and	objective	manner.	The	subjec
	tive,	romantic,	emotional	poetry	of	the	last	century	has
	never	touched	or	influenced	him	in	his	work.	In	the	poetry
	of	Mr.	Hardy,	Mr.	Doughty	and	John	Davidson	we	are
	never	tempted	to	recall	the	fact	that	Tennyson,	Swin
	burne	and	Rossetti	have	lived	and	written.
	The	use	of	dramatic	monologue	in	a	form	which	com
	bined	the	characteristics	of	subjective	lyricism	and	the
	objective	address	of	the	drama	was	a	marked	develop
	ment	of	poetry	in	the	last	century.	Both	Tennyson	and
	Browning	have	left	the	best	of	their	writing	in	this	form.
	The	constant	use	of	the	dramatic	monologue	was	a	natural
	outcome	of	the	introspectiveness	of	the	age	;	it	was	used
	as	an	instrument	of	psychological	analysis	and	a	means	of
	making	poetry	a	more	individual	and	realistic	utterance
	of	the	heart.	But	Victorian	poetry	is	a	poetry	of	ideas,
	and	rarely	aims	at	concrete	realism.	Witliin	recent	years
	a	tendency	to	depart	from	purely	lyrical	forms	has	become
	marked	;	a	poetry	of	crude	and	violent	realism,	typically
	illustrated	in	the	writing	of	Mr,	Masefield,	has	become
	\


116	POETRY	[PART	i
	ditioned	by	time	and	place,	and	the	universal	poet,	whom
	time	cannot	wither,	has	seldom	been	born.	But	poetry
	is	always	poetry	;	the	distinction	between	major	and
	minor	poetry	is	a	fallacy	of	the	Philistines.	Poetry	and
	verse,	it	is	true,	are	two	different	things,	and	the	most
	of	men	who	attempt	to	write	poetry	only	write	verse.
	But	many	of	lesser	note	have	written	a	poem	or	two
	which	would	always	be	quoted	if	contained	in	the	standard
	editions	of	Goethe	or	Shelley.	The	difference	between
	the	greater	and	the	lesser	poet	is	a	matter	of	quantity	;
	the	former	writes	more	poetry	and	less	verse	in	pro
	portion	to	his	total	output.	But	a	poem	is	always	a
	poem	by	whomsoever	written.	Sir	William	Watson
	and	others	have	cavilled	at	the	distinction	between
	major	and	minor	poets	:	but	the	distinction	is	entirely
	to	be	justified.	The	major	poet	writes	more	poetry	and
	less	verse	:	that	is	all.	It	is	the	drawing	of	a	distinction
	between	major	and	minor	poetry	which	involves	confusion
	in	thought.	Yet	the	best	of	critics	may	be	ludicrously
	mistaken	in	reading	contemporary	poetry.	Perhaps	it
	is	true	that	the	poetry	meant	for	all	time	is	not	so	clearly
	poetry	for	the	men	of	an	age,	for	its	value	is	unconditioned
	and	the	critic's	outlook	is	conditioned	by	his	environ
	ment.	And,	therefore,	while	verse	will	not	often	appear
	as	poetry,	great	poetry	may	often	appear	as	incompetent
	blundering	in	the	critic's	eyes.	But,	on	the	whole,	what
	is	bad	will	soon	reveal	itself	to	the,	unprejudiced	observer.
	If	some	good	poetry	must	at	first	pass	unrecognised	for
	what	it	is,	this	is	only	a	temporary	evil,	for	probably	Mr.
	George	Moore	is	justified	in	his	optimistic	faith	that	no
	true	poem	can	be	finally	lost.	If	we	can	only	read	with
	defective	and	short	sight	the	poetry	that	is	being	made
	to-day,	we	have,	at	least,	some	advantage	over	those
	who	after	us	read	with	clearer	insight.	We	can	never
	read	Hamlet	as	the	man	who	first	read	it	in	its	earliest
	printed	form,	although	he	knew	little	of	Shakespeare's
	greatness	and	we	much.
	It	is,	therefore,	better	to	read	contemporary	verse	for
	the	joy	and	inspiration	it	may	afford	us	individually,
	untroubled	by	any	desire	to	speak	or	write	of	it.	But	the
	blind	adventure	often	brings	its	reward,	and	a	greater	than
	we	hoped.	In	any	case,	as	we	are	here	chiefly	concerned


x	HARRIET	WINSLOW	SEW	ALL.
	friends	felt	about	the	defection	of	the	sisters
	from	the	Friends	society	:
	A	LAMENT	FOR	THE	GRAND-DAUGHTERS	OF	THANKFUL
	HUSSEY.
	Where	now	is	our	Louisa	?	1
	Where	now	is	our	Louisa	?
	Where	now	is	our	Louisa	?
	Wandered	from	the	Quaker	rest.
	She	went	out	by	habeas	corpus,
	She	went	out	by	habeas	corpus,
	She	went	out	by	habeas	corpus,
	From	the	Quaker	fold	and	rest.
	Where	now	is	Lucy	Ellen	?
	Where	now	is	Lucy	Ellen	?
	Where	now	is	Lucy	Ellen	?
	Stolen	from	the	Quaker	rest.
	She	went	out	by	the	guile	o	Foxes,	2
	She	went	out	by	the	guile	o	Foxes,
	She	went	out	by	the	guile	o	Foxes,
	Stolen	from	the	Quaker	rest.
	1	Married	to	a	lawyer,	Samuel	E.	Sewall,	Esq.
	2	Married	to	Mr.	(afterwards	Judge)	Edward	Fox.


M-ACKENZIE'S
	'	I*	/
	TEN	THOUSAND	RECEIPTS,
	IN	ALL	THE
	USEFUL	AND	DOMESTIC	'"AKTS	;	:	-	;	^'
	CONSTITUTING
	A	COMPLETE	AND	PRACTICAL	LIBRARY,
	RELATING	TO
	AGBICULTUEE,	ANGLING,	BEES,	BLEACHING,	BOOK-KEEPING,	BREWING,	COTTOU
	CULTURE,	CROCHETING,	CARVING,	CHOLERA,	COOKING,	CALICO	PRINTING,
	CONFECTIONERY,	CEMENTS,	CHEMICAL	RECEIPTS,	COSMETICS,	DISEASES,
	DAIRY,	DENTISTRY,	DIALYSIS,	DECALCOMANIA,	DYEING,	DISTILLA-
	TION,	ENAMELLING,	ENGRAVING,	ELECTRO-PLATING,	ELEO
	TROTYPING,	FlSH	CULTURE,	FARRIERY,	FOOD,	FLOWER
	GARDENING,	FIREWORKS,	GAS	METRES,	GILDING,
	GLASS,	HEALTH,	HORSEMANSHIP,	INKS,	JEW-
	ELLERS'	PASTE,	KNITTING,	KNOTS,	LITHO-
	GRAPHY,	MERCANTILE	CALCULATIONS,
	MEDICINE,	MISCELLANEOUS	EE-
	CEIPTS,	METALLURGY,'	MEZ-
	ZOTINTS,	OIL	COLORS,
	OILS,	PAINTING,
	PERFUMERY,
	PASTRY,	PETROLEUM,	PICKLING,	POISONS	AND	ANTIDOTES,	POTICHOMANIA,
	PROOF-READING,	POTTERY,	PRESERVING,	PHOTOGRAPHY,	PYROTECHNICS,
	RURAL	AND	DOMESTIC	ECONOMY,	SUGAR	RAISING,	SILVERING,
	SCOURING,	SILK	AND	SILK-WORMS,	SORGHUM,	TOBACCO
	CULTURE,	TANNING,	TREES,	TELEGRAPHING,	VAR-
	NISHES,	VEGETABLE	GARDENING,	.WEIGHTS
	AND	MEASURES,	WINES,	ETC.,	ETC.
	BEING	AN	ENTIRELY	NEW	EDITION
	CABEFULLY	EEVISED	AND	KE-WKITTEN,
	AND
	Containing	the	Improvements	and	Discoveries	up	to	last	Date	of	Publication.
	JANUARY,	1867.
	Again	Eevised	to	Date	of	Prese^^^^Aj^4^^U^i^ll?ii	Addition	of	Special	Articles
	ui
	REPORT	AND	AWARD	OP	THE	TRIAT^&^fc&Wffl^WyjgraNTS	AT	THE	GREAT	NATIONAL
	FIELD	TRIAL	HM^g^^MgyB^^	J	ULY,	1866.
	PHIL
	T.	ELLWOOD	ZELL	&	COMPANY,
	Nos.	17	&	19	SOUTH	SIXTH	STREET.
	.1867.


Entered	according	to	Act	of	Congress,	in	the	year	1867,	by
	T.	ELLWOOD	ZELL,
	In	the	Clerk's	Office	of	the	District	Court	of	the	United	States	for	the	Eastern	District	of
	Pennsylvania.
	J.	FAGAN	&	SON,
	STEBEOTYPEBS,
	PHILADELPHIA.
	PRINTED	BY	SHERMAN	ft	CO.


22
	AGRICULTURE.
	it	comes	into	a	second	heat,	but	soon	cools,	and
	ehruld	be	taken	out	for	use.	In	this	state	the
	whole,	except	bits	of	the	old	decayed	wood,	ap-
	pears	a	black	free	mass,	and	spreads	like	garden
	mould.	Use	it	weight	for	weight,	as	farm-yard
	dung;	and	it	will	be	found,	in	a	course	of	crop-
	ping,	fully	to	stand	the	comparison.
	Peat,	nearly	as	dry	as	garden-mould	in	seed-
	time,	may	be	mixed	with	the	dung,	so	as	to
	double	the	volume.	Workmen	must	begin	with
	using	layers	;	but,	when	accustomed	to	the	just
	pix	portions,	if	they	are	furnished	with	peat	mod-
	erately	dry,	and	dung	not	lost	in	litter,	they	throw
	it	up	together	as	a	mixed	mass,	and	make	a	less
	proportion	of	dung	serve	for	the	preparation.
	The	rich	coarse	earth,	which	is	frequently	found
	en	the	surface	of	peat,	is	too	heavy	to	be	admit-
	ted	into	this	compost;	but	it	makes	an	excellent
	top-dressing,	if	previously	mixed	and	turned	over
	with	lime.
	Dr.	Hennie's	Method	of	Converting	Moss	into	Ma-
	nure.
	The	importance	of	moss	as	a	manure	is	now
	generally	admitted	by	all	who	have	had	an	op-
	portunity	of	making	experiments	on	that	subject.
	The	Rev.	Dr.	Rennie,	of	Kilsyth,	having	proved
	the	utility	of	filtration,	has	recommended,	in	pri-
	vate	letters,	to	water	the	collected	heap	of	moss
	for	about	ten	days,	once	each	day,	very	copiously	;
	and	when	that	is	done,	to	trim	it	up	to	a	compact
	body,	allow	it	to	dry,	and	to	receive	a	gentle	de-
	gree	of	heat.	The	degree	of	heat	necessary	for
	accomplishing	that	end,	is	sufficient,	though	not
	discoverable	by	the	hand.	If	it	only	affects	the
	thermometer	a	little,	it	is	declared	to	be	a	ma-
	nure.	The	doctor	also	declares,	that	moss	can	be
	converted	by	filtering	steam	through	it;	and
	more	expeditiously	still,	by	exposing	it	to	a	run-
	ning	stream	of	water.	If	the	water	penetrates
	the	moss,	it	expels	its	poisonous	qualities	sooner
	and	more	effectually	than	any	other	mode	ever
	devised.	When	it	is	sufficiently	purified	by	any
	of	these	means,	it	must	be	laid	up	to	dry,	and	is
	in	a	short	time	ready	for	applying	to	the	land.
	Use	of	Lime	as	Manure.
	This	mineral,	after	undergoing	the	process	of
	calcination,	has	long	been	applied	by	husband-
	men	as	a	stimulus	to	the	soil,	and,	in	consequence
	of	such	an	application,	luxuriant	crops	have	been
	produced,	even	upon	soils	apparently	of	inferior
	quality,	and	which	would	have	yielded	crops	of
	trifling	value	had	this	auxiliary	been	withheld.
	In	fact,	the	majority	of	soils	cannot	be	cultivated
	with	advantage	till	they	are	dressed	with	lime	;
	and	whether	this	beneficial	effect	shall	be	consid-
	ered	as	an	alterative,	or	as	a	stimulant,	or	as	a
	manure,	it	will	be	found	to	be	the	basis	of	good
	husbandry,	and	of	more	use	than	all	other	ma-
	nures	put	together.	Wherever	lirne	has	been
	prcperly	applied,	it	has	constantly	been	found	to
	piove	as	much	superior	to	dung,	as	dung	is	to
	the	rakings	of	roads,	or	the	produce	of	peat-mire.
	_	In	respect	of	operation,	it	is	immaterial	whether
	lime	be	used	upon	grass	land	or	summer-fallow.
	Upon	old	grass	land,	it	is	perhaps	best	to	plough
	first,	and	to	summer-fallow	in	the	second	year,
	when	lime	can	be	applied.	On	new	and	clean
	grass	land,	it	may	be	limed	at	the	outset,	that	is
	before	the	plough	is	admitted.
	To	lime	moorish	soils	is	a	hazardous	business,
	unless	dung	is	likewise	bestowed:	but	to	repeat
	the	application	upon	such	soils,	especially	if	they
	have	been	severely	cropped,	is	almost	a	certain
	loss	;	a	compost	of	lime	and	rich	earth	is,	in	such
	cases,	the	only	substitute.
	Strong	loams	and	clays	require	a	full	dose	to
	bring	them	into	action	;	such	soils	being	capable
	of	absorbing	a	greater	quantity	of	calcareous
	matter.	Lighter	soils,	however,	require	less	lime
	to	stimulate	them,	and	may	be	injured	by	admin-
	istering	a	quantity	that	would	prove	moderately
	beneficial	to	those	of	a	heavy	nature.
	Upon	fresh	land,	or	land	in	a	proper	state	for	a
	calcareous	application,	lime	is	much	superior	to
	dung.	Its	effects	continue	fora	longer	period;
	while	the	crops	produced	are	of	a	superior	kind
	and	less	susceptible	of	injury	from	the	excesses
	of	drought	and	moisture.	Finally,	the	ground,
	particularly	what	is	of	a	strong	nature,	is	much
	easier	wrought;	and,	in	many	instances,	the
	saving	of	labor	would	almost	tempt	a	judicious
	farmer	to	lime	his	land,	were	no	greater	benefit	de-
	rived	from	the	application	than	the	opportunity
	thereby	gained	of	working	it	in	a	perfect	manner.
	It	may	be	added,	that	though	strong	soils	re-
	quire	to	be	animated	with	a	strong	dose	of	lime,
	those	of	a	light	texture	will	do	well	with	little
	more	than	half	the	quantity	requisite	on	the
	others,	especially	if	they	are	fresh,	^r	have	not
	already	received	an	application	of	calcareous
	matter.
	Application	of	Marl.
	In	many	places	the	value	of	land	has	been
	much	augmented	by	the	application	of	marl.
	Treating	of	this	article	in	a	practical	way,	it	may
	be	divided	into	shell-marl	and	earth-marl.	Shell-
	marl	is	composed	of	animal	shells	dissolved;
	earth-marl	is	also	fossil.	The	color	of	the	latter
	is	various	;	its	hardness	being	sometimes	soft	and
	ductile,	like	clay;	sometimes	hard	and	solid,	like
	stone;	and	sometimes	it	is	extended	into	thin
	beds,	like	slate.	Shell-marl	is	easily	distin-
	guished	by	the	shells,	which	always	appear	in	it	j
	but	the	similarity	betwixt	earth-marl	and	many
	other	fossil	substances,	renders	it	difficult	to	dis-
	tinguish	them.
	Shell-marl	is	very	different	in	its	nature	from
	clayey	and	stone	marls,	and,	from	its	effects	upon
	the	soil,	is	commonly	classed	among	the	animal
	manures	:	it	does	not	dissolve	with	water	as	the
	other	marls	do.	It	sucks	it	up,	and	swells	with
	it	like	a	sponge.	Dr.	Home	says,	that	it	takes
	six	times	more	of	acids	to	saturate	it	than	any	of
	the	other	marls	which	he	had	met	with.	But	the
	greatest	difference	betwixt	the	shell-marl	and	the
	other	marls	consists	in	this,	the	shell-marl	con-
	tains	oils.
	This	marl,	it	would	seem	from	the	qualities
	which	it	possesses,	promotes	vegetation	in	all	the
	different	ways.	It	increases	the	food	of	plants;
	it	communicates	to	the	soil	a	power	of	attracting
	this	food	from	the	air;	it	enlarges	the	pasture	of
	plants;	and	it	prepares	the	vegetable	food	for
	entering	their	roots.
	Shelly	Sand.
	The	shelly	sand,	often	found	deposited	in	beds
	in	the	crevices	and	level	parts	of	the	sea-coasts,
	is	another	substance	capable	of	being	employed,
	both	as	a	manure	and	stimulant,	not	only	on	ac-
	count	of	its	containing	calcareous	matter,	in
	greater	or	less	proportions,	but	also	from	the
	mixture	of	animal	and	vegetable	substances	that
	are	found	in	it.	The	portion	of	calcareous	matter
	contained	in	these	substances	must	vary	accord-
	ing	to	circumstances;	but,	when	the	quantity	is
	any	way	large,	and	in	a	reduced	or	attenuated
	state,	the	quality	is	so	much	the	more	valuable.
	On	that	account	the	quantity	which	ought	to	be
	applied	to	the	soil,	must	be	regulated	by	the	ex-
	tent	of	calcareous	matter,	supposed,	or	found,
	upon	trial,	to	be	contained	in	the	article.


53
	AGRICULTURE.
	another	female,	but	Mr.	Delonchamps	assures	us
	that	in	the	event	of	having	more	female	than	male
	moths,	the	latter	may	be	again	used	to	profit.	In
	the	year	1824	he	raised	many	worms	from	eggs
	the	produce	of	a	sixth	coupling,	which	were	fully
	equal	to	those	produced	from	those	at	the	first;
	the	union	continued	never	less	than	from	twenty
	to	twenty-four	hours;	the	male	after	a	sixth	union
	appeared	&	lively	and	as	brisk	as	at	first,	but	he
	had	no	more	females.	The	eggs	from	even	a	thir-
	teenth	union	of	the	same	male	with	different	fe-
	males	had	all	the	characters	of	those	of	the	best
	quality.	In	these	cases	the	disunion	of	the	pair
	was,	moreover,	never	spontaneous,	but	always	re-
	quired	to	be	effecttd	by	the	hands.
	The	following	is	the	manner	in	which	the	cloth
	must	be	arranged	:
	At	the	bottom	of	a	tressel	or	frame,	which	must
	be	proportioned	to	the	number	of	moths,	place
	horizontally	on	each	side	of	the	length	two	boards,
	BO	arranged	that	one	of	their	sides	may	be	nailed
	to	the	tressel	about	five	inches	and	a	half	high
	above	the	ground,	and	that	the	other	side	of	the
	board	shall	be	a	little	higher	and	project	out-
	wards.	Upon	the	tressel	lay	a	cloth,	so	that	it
	may	hang	equally	on	each	side.	The	ends	of
	the	cloth	must	cover	the	boards	below;	the	more
	perpendicular	the	lateral	parts	of	the	tressel	are
	the	less	soiled	will	be	the	cloth	by	the	evacuation
	of	the	liquid	from	the	moths.	The	moths	which
	have	been	united	six	hours	are	then	to	be	gently
	separated,	the	females	placed	on	the	frame	and
	carried	to	the	tressel	and	placed	on	the	cloth,
	one	over	another,	beginning	at	the	top	and
	going	downwards.	Note	the	time	at	which	the
	moths	are	pluced	on	the	cloth,	and	keep	those	which
	are	placed	afterwards	separate,	to	avoid	confusion.
	The	females	that	have	had	a	virgin	mate	must
	be	treated	\r.	the	same	manner	as	those	which
	have	been	united	with	one	that	had	been	coupled
	previously	five	hours.	The	females	should	be
	left	on	th	cloth	thirty-six	or	forty	hours	without
	being	touched;	at	this	time	if	it	be	observed	that
	the	linen	has	not	been	well	stocked	with	eggs,
	other	females	must	be	placed	upon	it,	in	order
	that	the	eggs	may	be	equally	distributed.	When
	the	heat	of	the	room	is	77	or	79,	or	when	at	63
	or	65,	the	eggs	will	be	yellow,	that	is	unimpreg-
	nated,	or	of	a	reddish	color,	that	is	imperfectly
	impregnated,	and	will	not	produce	worms;	the
	temperature	of	the	room	must	therefore	be	kept
	between	these	extremes.	Sometimes	a	female	moth
	will	escape	from	its	mate	before	impregnation	and
	produce	many	worthless	eggs.
	The	female	cocoons,	as	before	noted,	are	gene-
	rally	larger	than	the	males	and	not	so	much
	pointed	as	these	are,	and	are	without	the	ring	or
	depression	in	the	middle,	which	commonly	distin-
	guishes	the	cocoons	containing	the	latter.
	Eight	or	ten	days	after	the	deposition	of	the
	eggs	the	jonquil	color	peculiar	to	them	will	change
	to	a	reddish	gray,	and	afterwards	into	a	pale	clay
	hue	;	they	are	of	a	lenticular	form,	and	on	both
	surfaces	there	is	a	slight	depression.
	Preservation	of	the	Eggs.
	Collect	the	eggs	which	have	fallen	on	the	cloth
	covering	the	shelves	of	the	tressel,	when	quite
	dry,	and	put	them	in	a	box,	and,	if	numerous,	in
	layers	not	more	than	half	the	breadth	of	the	fin-
	ger.	The	cloths	raised	from	the	tressel	when	quite
	dry	are	to	be	folded	and	placed	in	a	dry	room,	the
	temperature	of	which	does	not	exceed	65,	nor
	below	the	freezing	point,	32.
	During	the	summer	the	cloths	must	be	exam-
	ined	every	month,	to	remove	insects,	and	to	pre-
	serve	the	cloths	always	in	fresh	air	;	if	the	quan-
	tity	be	large,	place	them	on	a	frame	of	cord	at-
	tached	to	the	ceiling	or	a	rafter.	A	barrel-hoop
	crossed	with	stout	pack-thread	will	make	a	good
	frame.	A	small	quantity	may	be	kept	in	a	tin	case.
	If	a	board	box	be	used	the	joints	and	edges	of	the
	top	should	be	pasted	with	paper	to	exclude	ants.
	There	exists	a	notion	that	every	two	or	three
	years	the	eggs	should	be	changed.	It	requires
	little	to	be	said	on	this	egregious	error.	To	sup-
	pose	that	the	good	cocoons	of	a	cultivator,	after	a
	few	years,	are	no	longer	fit	to	produce	seed,	and
	yet	that	these	cocoons	can	give	good	seed	for	the
	use	of	another,	would	be	to	admit	a	superstitious
	contradiction,	which	reason,	practice,	and	science
	alike	condemn.	A	change	of	seed	can	only	be
	necessary	when,	from	great	neglect	for	a	series	of
	years	of	the	worms,	a	diminutive	race	has	been
	produced.	Worms	properly	treated	will	never
	degenerate.	On	the	subject	of	the	degeneracy	of
	silk-worms,	in	the	United	States,	the	most	posi-
	tive	information	can	be	given.
	Mr.	Samuel	Alexander,	of	Philadelphia,	says:
	"I	am	convinced	that	silk	worms	cultivated	in
	Pennsylvania,	instead	of	degenerating,	improve;
	proof	of	which	I	possess,	in	comparing	the	co-
	coons	of	four	years	since	with	those	of	the	last
	year.	I	can	say,	with	truth,	the	worms	hatched
	from	the	eggs	I	brought	from	the	south	of	Eu-
	rope	have	produced	annually	better	silk."	The
	testimony	of	Mr.	Sharrod	M'Call,	of	Florida,	is
	still	more	decisive.
	A	sample	of	beautiful	sewing-silk,	sent	with	his
	communication	to	the	Secretary	of	the	Treasury,
	was	part	of	a	parcel	produced	by	worms,	the	stock
	of	which	he	has	had	thirty	years;	and	they	were
	obtained	from	a	maternal	ancestor,	who	had	pos-
	sessed	them	many	years	before.
	During	all	this	long	period	no	degeneracy	has
	been	observed.	Let	proper	care	be	taken	of	silk-
	worms,	and	no	deterioration	will	take	place.
	The	time	has	passed	when	the	idle	reveries	of
	Buffon,	Robertson,	De	Pauw,	and	others,	respect-
	ing	the	tendency	of	nature	"to	belittle"	and	de-
	generate	everything	foreign	in	the	new	world,
	were	received	as	truths.	Facts,	proud	facts,	de-
	monstrate	not	only	the	absurdity	of	their	positions,
	but	the	superiority	of	many	American	animals	and
	vegetables,	when	compared	with	similar	produc-
	tions	in	the	old	world,
	To	bake	Cocoons.
	Cocoons	reel	more	readily,	and	yield	silk	of	a
	superior	quality,	without	killing	the	insect	by
	either	steam	of	hot	water,	or	by	baking	them;	but
	those	who	have	not	the	means	of	reeling	off	their
	cocoons	in	two	or	three	days	after	they	are	formed,
	or	of	selling	them,	must	kill	the	insects	they	con-
	tain,	or	they	will	eat	through,	and	spoil	the	co-
	coons	by	breaking	the	continuity	of	the	thread.
	The	easiest	way	to	do	this	is	to	bake	them	in	an
	oven,	which	must	be	about	as	hot	as	when	bread
	has	been	taken	out	of	it.	After	picking	out	all
	the	spotted	cocoons,	put	the	rest	in	flat	baskets,
	filling	them	within	<m	inch	of	the	top;	cover	them
	with	paper,	and	a	wrapper	over	it;	put	these	bas-
	kets	in	the	oven,	and	after	an	hour	draw	them
	out	and	cover	them	with	a	woollen	rug,	leaving
	the	wrapper	as	it	was.	Let	them	stand	five	or	six
	hours,	to	keep	in	the	heat	and	stifle	the	chrysalis.
	Then	spread	them	in	thin	layers	on	shelves,	and
	move	them	every	day	(to	prevent	their	becoming
	mouldy)	until	perfectly	dry.	ft	may	be	impor-
	tant	to	state	that	the	birth	of	the	moth	may	be
	prolonged	a	month,	by	keeping	the	cocoons	in	a
	very	cold	dry	cellar.	If	the	cocoons	are	kept
	over	summer,	they	must	be	protected	from	an'.d,
	mice,	and	cockroaches.