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 These trials which the departed undergo, and which are triumphantly overcome by the Osiris, sufficiently show the fete which the wicked must expect. This fate is called "the second death."

The faithful dead expect to be protected from the dangers of their new existence, partly indeed by the virtue of amulets and talismans to which the gods have given power, partly also by the knowledge of religious formulas (such as the chapters of the Book of the Dead) or of divine names, but chiefly by the conformity of their conduct with the standard of law by which they are judged by Osiris in the Amenti.

Amulets.

The use of amulets was certainly carried to the most extravagant excess, and the Book of the Dead even in its earliest form shows the importance attached to such things. In the thirty-second chapter, the deceased drives off the infernal crocodiles by pointing to the potent talismans upon his person. "Back! Crocodile of the West!" he says, "who livest upon the Achemu who are at rest; what thou abhorrest is upon me; I have eaten the head of Osiris; I am Set. Back! Crocodile of the West! there is an asp upon me; I shall not be given to thee; dart not thy flame upon me. Back! Crocodile of the East! who feedest upon impurities; what thou abhorrest is upon me; I have


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 passed; I am Osiris;" and so on. Directions are given in the rubrics of certain characters for the construction of these talismans, such as the Tat of gold (ch. 155), emblematic of the vertebræ of Osiris; the buckle of red quartz (ch. 156), which the text connects with the blood of Isis and the magic words of Osiris; and the golden vulture (ch. 157), which has reference to some parts of the history of Isis and Horus. The most important probably of these talismans was the scarabaeus which had the thirtieth chapter inscribed upon it. The rubric directs it to be placed upon the heart of the deceased person. An immense number of these scarabaei have been found with the chapter inscribed upon them; there is probably no chapter of which the text can be restored with greater difficulty. Its antiquity is extreme, and the different readings already abounded at the time of the eleventh dynasty.

Words of Power.

The belief in the magic power of sacred words, whether religious formulas or the names of gods, was also acknowledged and was the source of a frightful amount of superstition. The rubric at the end of the first chapter is a specimen of what occurs in others. "If this chapter be known upon earth or if it be written upon his coffin, he will come forth every day that he pleases, and enter his house without being prevented;

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 there shall be given to him bread and beer, and flesh upon the tables of Rā; he will work in the fields of Aarru, and there shall be given to him the wheat and barley which are there, for he shall flourish as though he were upon earth." Another rubric says: "If this chapter be recited over him, he will go forth over the earth, and he will pass through every kind of fire, no evil thing being able to hurt him."

The power of the book of Tehuti (that is, of the Book of the Dead), it is said in one place, is the cause of the triumph of Osiris over his ghostly enemies. And in very many places the Osiris bases his claims on the simple feet of knowing the names of the gods whom he addresses, or of the localities in the divine world which he inhabits.

The superstitious repetition of names (many of which perhaps never had any meaning at all) is particularly conspicuous in numerous documents much more recent than the Book of the Dead; from the time, in fact, of the eighteenth dynasty down to Christian times. But the last chapters of the Turin copy of the Book of the Dead, which, though really no portion of it, are probably very ancient, already indulge in this gross superstition. "Iruka is thy name, Markata is thy name, Ruta is thy name, Nasakaba is thy name, Tanasatanasa is thy name, Sharusatakata is thy name."


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 Moral Doctrine.

From rubbish like this, which is only worthy of the spells of vulgar conjurors, it is pleasant to pass to the moral doctrines of the Book of the Dead, which are the same which were recognized in the earliest times. No one could pass to the blissful dwellings of the dead who had failed at the judgment passed in presence of Osiris. No portion of the Book of the Dead is so generally known as the picture which represents the deceased person standing in the presence of the goddess Maāt, who is distinguished by the ostrich-feather upon her head; she holds a sceptre in one hand and the symbol of life in the other. The man's heart, which represents his entire moral nature, is being weighed in the balance in presence of Osiris, seated upon his throne as judge of the dead. The second scale contains the image of Maāt. Horus is watching the indicator of the balance, and Tehuti, the god of letters, is writing down the result. Forty-two divinities are represented in a line above the balance. These gods correspond to the same number of sins which it is their office to punish. It is with reference to these sins and the


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 virtues to which they are opposed that the examination of the deceased chiefly consists.

The hundred and twenty-fifth chapter is entitled, "Book of entering into the Hall of the Two-fold Maāt: the person parts from his sins that he may see the divine faces." The deceased begins: "Hail to you, ye lords of the Two-fold Maāt, and hail to thee, great god, lord of the Two-fold Maāt! I have come to thee, my lord, I have brought myself to see thy glories. … I know thy name, and I know the names of thy forty-two gods who are with thee in the Hall of the Two-fold Maāt, who live by the punishment of the wicked, and devour their blood on that day of weighing the words in presence of Unnefer, the triumphant." A good deal which follows in the Turin copy is not contained in all the manuscripts. But the following extracts deserve mention. "I have brought you Law, and subdued for you iniquity. I am not a doer of fraud and iniquity against men. I am not a doer of that which is crooked


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 in place of that which is right. I am not cognizant of iniquity; I am not a doer of evil. I do not force a labouring man to do more than his daily task. … I do not calumniate a servant to his master; I do not cause hunger; I do not cause weeping; I am not a murderer; I do not give order to murder privily; I am not guilty of fraud against any one; I am not a falsifier of the measures in the temples. … I do not add to the weight of the scale; I do not falsify the indicator of the balance; I do not withhold milk from the mouth of the suckling." The catalogue of the forty-two sins, each of which has an avenging deity, includes some of those I have quoted and omits others. The sins are not catalogued according to any scientific arrangement. Besides the crimes of violence and theft, different sins against chastity are mentioned; not only evil-speaking and lying, but exaggeration, chattering and idle words are condemned; he who reviles the king, his father or his god, the evil listener and he who turns a deaf ear to the words of truth or justice, he who causes pain of mind to another, or who in his heart thinks meanly of God—all these fail to satisfy the conditions of admission into the ranks of the triumphant dead.

The 125th chapter of the Book of the Dead certainly contains the oldest known code of private and public morality. The fifteenth chapter, which is a hymn to the rising and to the setting Sun, is the most ancient


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 piece of poetry in the literature of the world. The seventeenth chapter is not less remarkable. It consists, as Bunsen says, "of short and obscure ejaculations, and of glosses and commentaries upon this text;" "of an original sacred hymn, interspersed with such glosses or scholia as must have been collected by a vast number of interpreters. This is identical with saying that the record was at that time no longer intelligible. Yet the text of the whole chapter is written, not only in the Turin papyrus, but on the coffin of the eleventh dynasty. Add to this that the text thus confounded in every verse with its glosses is written so confusedly, both on the coffin and in the papyrus, that the scholia are jumbled into wrong spaces. … Suppose a psalm of the Hebrew text to have been copied on a royal monument with a whole catena of commentaries and glossaries, but copied uno tenore, without distinction of text and notes. Such exactly is the state of the Egyptian record." Since Bunsen wrote, considerable light has been thrown upon the chapter. M. de Rougé has translated the chapter, after having carefully collated all the manuscripts accessible to him, and has learnedly commented upon both the original texts and the glosses. Lepsius has


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 greatly added to our knowledge by publishing two texts of the chapter copied from coffins of the ancient empire, with his learned annotations. The whole of the chapter is important, but the most interesting portion is the beginning of it, which may be thus translated: "I am Tmu, who have made heaven, and have created all the things which are; and I exist alone, rising out of Nu. I am Rā with his diadem, when he began the kingdom which he made." The gloss asks, "What is this?" and the answer is, that "Rā began to exercise his sovereignty when as yet there was no firmament, and when he was on the height of Am-chemun, for then he established the children of inertness upon the height of Am-chemun." The meaning of this is, that there was a time of chaos when no distinction as yet existed between earth and sky. But the kingdom of Rā was already established, and in his reign the firmament was raised, and certain personages, called the children of inertness, were established (as gods, according to one reading) on the height of Am-chemun, where Rā himself had resided before.


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 Chemun is the Egyptian name of Hennopolis, but it also signifies the number Eight. The "children of inertness" are the elementary forces of nature, which according to Egyptian ideas were eight in number. These elements, born out of chaos or inertness, henceforth became active, and were made to rule the world under Rā as the demiurgus.

The text proceeds—"I am the great God, self-existent;" but a longer recension adds, "that is to say the Water, that is to say Nu, the father of the gods." According to a gloss, the self-existent god is Rā Nu, the father of the gods, and other glosses speak of Rā as "creating his name as lord of all the gods, or as producing his limbs, which become the gods who are in his company." Besides this cosmology, the chapter contains a number of interesting details on the mythology and on the symbolism which is connected with it; as, for instance, that the ithyphallic god Amesi is Horus, the avenger of his father, and that the two feathers upon his head are the twin sisters Isis and Nephthys.

The sixty-fourth chapter is scarcely less interesting; but in spite of the excellent labours of M. Guyesse, who has carefully edited and translated several recensions of it, much remains to be done before it can be


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200 made thoroughly intelligible, not only to the public at large, but to professional scholars. Tradition, as represented by the rubrics of the chapter, assigned the discovery of this document either to the time of king Menkaurā, according to some manuscripts, or to that of king Septi of the first dynasty. The chapter is twice copied on the sarcophagus of the queen of the eleventh dynasty, and in one of the copies king Septi's name is given; the other copy follows the tradition in favour of king Menkaurā, though the scribe has blundered about the name, and inserted that of Mentuhotep, which is the royal name to which the coffin itself belongs. The 130th chapter is also said to have been found in the palace of king Septi. It is very doubtful whether these traditions rest upon any authentic basis.

ֺ Other Sacred Books.

As the Book of the Dead is the most ancient, so it is undoubtedly the most important of the sacred books of the Egyptians. Other works are interesting to the archaeologist, and require to be studied by those who desire to have minute and accurate knowledge of the entire mythology, but they are extremely wearisome and repulsive to all whose aim extends beyond mere erudition. I am not now referring to hymns and other private compositions (found in papyri or on the walls of tombs and temples), some of which I shall have


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 occasion to speak of in the next Lecture, but to the books which were evidently recognized as having public and, if I may say so, canonical authority. Those which are best known have reference to the passage of the sun through the twelve hours of the night. That part of the world which is below the earth and visited by the sun after his setting, is called the Tuat, The bark of the sun is represented as proceeding over a river called the Uranes, through fields cultivated by the departed. The whole space is divided into twelve parts, separated by gates. The "Book of that which is in the Tuat" contains a short description of these twelve divisions, their names, the names of the hours of the night, of the gates and of the gods belonging to each locality, and it states the advantages to be derived from a knowledge of these names, and also from the due observance upon earth by the living of the rites due to the departed. It is said, for instance, that if these rites are conducted em ser maāt, "with the strict accuracy of Law," the honours paid to him on earth are transmitted to him in the lower world. If he knows the names of the gods he encounters, no harm will come to him. The papyri which contain this composition are always illustrated; the text is indeed in great part simply descriptive of the picture to which it refers.

Very similar in its nature is the composition which covers the beautiful alabaster sarcophagus of Seti I.,


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 now in the Soane Museum. Other copies of it are known to us. Perhaps the most interesting part of this text is the scene which recognizes men of foreign and hostile races, the Tamehu, the Aamu, and the Negroes, men of the Red land (Tesheret) as well as those of the Black land (Kamit, Egypt), as created and protected by the gods of Egypt. M. Léfébure has translated this text, and part of his translation has already appeared in the "Records of the Past."


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Rh fact that the time was quite evident by a glance at the face, he pressed a spring and the hour rang out in the repeater's musical tinkling notes. So still was the room that the sound was quite audible, and even the professor, seated cross-legged on the platform, looked up. The young man closed the watch with a snap, heaved a sigh, and, walking down the aisle, was the first to give in his papers. Inscribed in a bold hand on the outside sheet was, "L. Putney Betts, New York, New York."

There was a flutter as he passed.

Once outside the door, he paused and drew a cigarette from a silver case.

"Dead easy," he said: "struck four out of five. Knew 'em by heart." Then he chuckled, "There's nothing like having a professor's brother for a tutor," he remarked to himself; "there's where I had a great head."

But to return to the busy room again.

The big freshman was seated in one of the back seats. His brow was wrinkled and he had run his fingers so often through his hair that it stood up from his head in all directions like an aurora. At last, however, he wrote his name carefully in the right-hand corner of his paper

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34 and walked to the professor's desk. The latter glanced up from his book, and turned the paper about so as to read the signature. It read Newton Wilberforce Hart, Oakland, Nebraska.

Mr. Congreve, who had been drawing a picture of a yacht on the arm of the seat, grew nervous; several more candidates had gone out of the room. He glanced at the questions again. To his delight Simeon Tolker remembered having once had the next problem given him at St. Paul's. He wrote Q.E.D. a little bit larger and, if anything, more distinctly than before; and now there seemed to be an epidemic of finishing; figure after figure left their seats and the pile of little white pamphlets on the professor's desk grew taller and taller.

Soon only a dozen or so were left and there was but one problem for Mr. Congreve to answer. A short thick-set youth with eyeglasses was drumming on his teeth with the end of his lead pencil. As he caught Congreve's eye, he winked and shook his head hopelessly; at last, however, he dashed his name on the paper with a flourish, yawned extravagantly, and sauntered slowly down the aisle. Congreve was

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Rh at his heels. When they emerged into the sunlight, the latter turned and spoke:

"Stickler, wasn't it?"

"Mucilaginous," replied the young man with glasses; "I hope he doesn't send mine to Puck."

"It's a funny thing how you can forget now, isn't it? My name is Congreve."

"And mine is Golatly," replied the other.

They shook hands. In another moment there was quite a group about the door-way, and after a short discussion upon the examination, the freshmen strolled off in groups of three and four.

L. Putney Betts had been fortunate enough to secure a room in University Hall. As he had already been in Princeton for the past week tutoring, it was quite habitable. There were yachting pictures and English sporting prints all over the walls. A handsome mahogany cigar box with silver handles rested upon the table. The room was filled with blue smoke and the odor of very excellent tobacco. The window seat was packed with young men who

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Rh man from Nebraska. He glanced awkwardly around, declined a cigar, and leaned back in the corner.

"That will do," said some one from the window seat, after the young man from Newark had rambled on at some length ; "let's, let's try what somebody else can do for us." He approached one of the figures seated against the wall.

"Dance, sing, or tell a story. What's your name?" he said.

"My name is James," was the answer. The speaker was a slim, sharp-featured lad with deep-set eyes like a young hawk's. He was sunburned and had a keen air about him. His fingers showed the marks of the base-ball player. "Oh, I say," he replied, "I'm no good at anything of that kind, or I would do it in a minute. Ask some one else."

"Try the large infant in the corner," came another suggestion from one of the visitors. Thus publicly dared, the sophomore walked up to Hart.

"Come, come," he said, "let's see what you're good for. Do a stunt, you son of Anak."

Mr. Hart appeared quite embarassed. It all

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36 appeared to be very much at home. It was ten o'clock at night.

Three or four uncomfortable-looking figures sat about in chairs. A roar of laughter broke out and even the uncomfortable figures joined in.

The occasion of the merriment, Terence Golatly, emerged from the bedroom. He was in charge of a pudding faced individual who wore an orange-and-black Tam O'Shanter.

"As Master of Ceremonies, gentlemen, I beg to introduce this promising little boy who will talk of politics in his native city, Newark," said the fat sophomore.

Freshman Golatly was attired in a dressing gown and had on his head a waste-paper basket, shaped like an Uncle Sam's beaver hat. If this was hazing, there was nothing cruel in it—he apparently was enjoying his position as much as the rest.

L. Putney Betts nervously passed the handsome cigar box.

There is no use recording Mr. Golatly's oratorical outburst; but in the midst of it there was an interruption. Three or four freshmen entered the room, and among them the

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38 seemed very foolish to him, though he tried to smile good-humoredly, but there was a nervous twinkle in his eyes that should have been a warning.

"This, ladies and gentlemen, is Huckleberry John, the Hoosier Giant. You will find him pleasing and affable in conversation. He also has his photographs for sale," began the sophomore. Encouraged by the success of this attempt to be amusing, the orator bowed. "Bow, John," he said, and struck the tall man from Oakland a sharp blow on the back of the head, and just here something happened! Where it came from the assumed showman never knew, but there seemed to be an explosion before his eyes, and he went backwards across the room, bringing down a chair, and upsetting two of his classmates who had seated themselves on the edge of the sofa. There was a dead silence, and Hart was the first to break it. He had partially taken off his coat, but he slipped it on again hurriedly. His face was very white, and he spoke with an effort.

"I didn't mean to hit you so hard," he said, "but you made me mad cuffing a fellow like that,—no fun in it."

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Rh In one version of the myth the slavery of Apollo in the house of Admetus was an expiation of the dragon's death. Through many of the versions runs the idea that the slaying of the serpent was a deed which required purification, and almost apology. If the serpent was really the deity of an elder faith, this would be intelligible, or, if he had kinsfolk, a serpent-tribe in the district, we could understand it. Apollo's next act was to open a new spring of water, as the local nymph was hostile and grudged him her own. This was an inexplicable deed in a sun-god, whose business it is to dry up rather than to open water-springs. He gave oracles out of the laurel of Delphi, as Zeus out of the oaks of Dodona. Presently Apollo changed himself into a huge dolphin, and in this guise approached a ship of the Cretan mariners. He guided, in his dolphin shape, the vessel to Crisa, the port of Delphi, and then emerged splendid from the waters, and filled his fane with light, a sun-god indeed. Next, assuming the shape of a man, he revealed himself to the Cretans, and bade them worship him in his Delphic seat as Apollo Delphinios, the Dolphin-Apollo.

Such is the ancient tale of the founding of the Delphic oracle, in which gods, and beasts, and men are mixed in archaic fashion. It is open to students to regard the dolphin as only one of the many animals whose earlier worship is concentrated in Apollo, or to take the creature for the symbol of spring, when


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198 seafaring becomes easier to mortals, or to interpret the dolphin as the result of a volks-etymologie, in which the name Delphi (meaning originally a hollow in the hills) was connected with delphis, the dolphin.

On the whole, it seems impossible to get a clear view of Apollo as a sun-god from a legend built out of so many varied materials of different dates as the myth of the slaying of the Python and the founding of the Delphic oracle. Nor does the tale of the birth of the god—les enfances Apollon—yield much more certain information. The most accessible and the oldest form of the birth-myth is preserved in the Homeric hymn to the Delian Apollo, a hymn intended for recital at the Delian festival of the Ionian people.

The hymn begins without any account of the amours of Zeus and Leto; it is merely said that many lands refused to allow Leto a place wherein to bring forth her offspring. But barren Delos listened to her prayer, and for nine days Leto was in labour, surrounded by all the goddesses, save jealous Hera and Eilithyia, who presides over childbirth. To her Iris went with the promise of a golden necklet set with amber studs, and Eilithyia came down to the isle, and Leto, grasping the trunk of a palm tree, brought forth Apollo and Artemis.

Such is the narrative of the hymn, in which some interpreters, such as M. Decharme, find a rich allegory of the birth of Light. Leto is regarded as Night or Darkness, though it is now admitted that


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Rh It would have been all right if it had not been for the foolhardiness of the discomfited sophomore. As soon as he regained his feet, he picked up a small book from the table, and hurled it with all his might. It caught Hart squarely in the forehead. Everyone gasped, but the tall figure walked over to where the now frightened crowd were gathered in the window seat.

"Get out of this! I have had enough of all of you," he said. "Get out!"

This was a nice way for a freshman to address members of the class above him. No one stirred, and there was an uncomfortable silence. "Clear out!" said Hart again, a little louder.

He stretched out one big hand and caught the sophomore nearest to him by the back of his coat. This lad had played on his class football team, and he ducked and grabbed the freshman by the knees. Then commenced what was described as a "rukus" in resounding Alexandrines from the pen of Mr. Terence Golatly and spoken by him on many occasions afterwards.

At once there was a rush made by the unbidden guests. They swarmed at the big

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40 valiantly. The swaying crowd backed against L. Putney Betts's centre-table and over went the drop-light and fine cigar box.

It was dark as a pocket. Some one ran down the hall-way and thumped upon the door, for the noise had startled the dwellers in the rooms along the corridor.

"Here's Mat! Here's Mat!" they shouted, and joined in the pounding.

In the darkness and confusion a deep puffing voice was heard.

"What's going on here? Let me in! Stop it there!"

The door opened and a burly figure forced its way through the crowd.

Well known, well liked, and feared, Matt Goldie, the proctor, had hardly ever failed to stop or quell any disturbance by the mere intervention of his presence. But this occasion was an exception.

To and fro in the darkness surged the struggling mass. Matt extended his great arms.

"Stop this right here," he cried, "or you will be all up before the faculty! Do you hear what I say!"

He had grasped two of the combatants and tossed them to either side, when, suddenly, he

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Rh this meaning cannot be found in the etymology of her name. M. Decharme presumes that the palm tree originally meant the morning red, by aid of which night gives birth to the sun, and if the poet says the young god loves the mountain tops, why, so does the star of day. The moon, however, does not usually arise simultaneously with the dawn, as Artemis was born with Apollo. It is vain, in fact, to look for minute touches of solar myth in the tale, which rests on the womanly jealousy of Hera, and explains the existence of a great fane and feast of Apollo, not in one of the rich countries that refused his mother sanctuary, but in a small barren and remote island.

Among the wilder myths which grouped themselves round the figure of Apollo was the fable that his mother Leto was changed into a wolf. The fable ran that Leto, in the shape of a wolf, came in twelve days from the Hyperboreans to Delos. This may be explained as a volks-etymologie from the god's name, "Lycegenes," which is generally held to mean "born of light." But the presence of very many animals in the Apollo legend and in his temples, corresponding as it does to similar facts already observed in the religion of the lower races, can scarcely be due to popular etymologies alone. The Dolphin-Apollo has already been remarked. There are many traces of


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Rh himself was caught by a strong pair of arms and down he went.

Some one struck a match. It went out at once. But in the brief spurt of light those around had caught a glimpse of a battle royal on the floor.

The sophomores had withdrawn from the fight and had retreated into the hall, but Hart, blind with rage, was grappling with one who had been reckoned only a few years before as the strongest man in Princeton.

A second match was struck and the drop light held in L. Putney Betts's trembling hands was lit. Straining like two fighting bulls were the proctor and the ex-deputy-sheriff, trying to roll from under the table.

"Who are you?" asked Hart, unclasping his fingers to get a stronger grip upon his opponent's collar.

"I am the proctor of the college," panted Matt, whose years told upon him.

"I don't care if you are the President," said Hart, "let go of me or I'll choke your throat."

At last they parted cautiously, and getting to their feet stood looking at one another. The crowd in the hall whispered excitedly.

"What is your name?" panted Matt.

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42 Hart gave it in full, but his spirit sank within him. No one smiled. Was this to be the end of his college career? He thought of the miles he had travelled,—of what he had given up. Despair and anger filled his soul.

"Is this your room?"

"No, sir; I have a small room in Edwards."

The proctor still breathing hard cleared the crowd out of the hallway. The hilarity that had been going on had ceased entirely, and the freshmen were seated silently about. Newton Wilberforce Hart was much depressed. He had straightened his crumpled collar and brushed his torn clothes, and was now twisting his big fingers nervously. Never had he felt so young or so foolish in his life.

An upper-class man knocked on the door. He had been one of the group who had gathered outside. Every one knew him; his pictures had appeared in the illustrated papers for the last three years—Minton, the Half-Back.

"You had better go over to your room, old chap," he said, addressing Hart; "I will see if I can't straighten matters out. I wouldn't hang around here any more, if I were you."

The big freshman waited a few minutes and

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Rh then, accompanied by three or four of his class, he walked across the campus. Another figure joined them at the corner of the observatory—"Hullo! don't you remember me; I'm Bliss—met you at the Glee Club car," said a cheerful voice.

When Hart reached his little room in Edwards, there was some lettering in green painted upon the door. He did not appear to notice what was written there, as the hall was but dimly lighted.

Bidding his friends good-night, he closed the door behind him and slipped the bolt.

Simeon Tolker Congreve turned to the others who had accompanied him. He struck a match, lighted a cigarette, and then he saw that the lettering had been done within the last few minutes, for the paint was running.

The legend ran, " Do not touch. This animal is dangerous."

Congreve daubed his finger with the pigment and inscribed beneath, "Q.E.D." "Quod erat demonstrandum, which is a true fact," he added.

"By the horn spoon, I wish he was rooming with me," said L. Putney Betts.

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44 When the others had gone Hart seated himself on the edge of the narrow little bedstead. He leaned his head forward in his hands. Such a feeling of hopelessness came over him, such a great wave of self-pity and remorse (that he had ever been foolish enough to imagine that a man of his age could adapt himself to a college existence) overwhelmed him to the extent that he could hardly control the bitter curses that came to his lips.

All at once there was a knock on the door. Hart arose. There was a devilish expression in his face. It would have gone hard for any sophomore who would have dared to put his head inside that room.

"By the Lord, I'll kill 'em," said the Westerner, through his clenched teeth. "Who's there?" he called aloud.

"It's I, Franklin," was the answer. "Don't you remember? Omaha, you know."

Hart dropped the little poker which he had taken from the fireplace and opened the door.

"Come in," he said, with an effort to be polite.

Franklin noticed, however, that Hart's hand was shaking nervously as he turned up the

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Rh gas-jet. He seated himself in the only chair, and Hart leaned back against the bare mantelpiece.

"Well," said Franklin at last, seeing that he was expected to speak first, "how did you pass to-day's examinations, and what do you think of it?"

"I wish to God I had never come," said the ex-deputy-sheriff; "this is no place for a man like me. Why," he added, half smiling and yet angry at the recollection, "they treated me like a pesky tender-foot. I got riled up and got into a rukus with the proctor of the college, I believe. I expect I shall be expelled in the morning. Expelled!" He laughed bitterly. "There 's a fine rocket for you. But I'm very much obliged for all you've done for me, I'm sure."

Franklin stood up. He stepped over and put one hand on Hart's shoulder, but there was no patronizing in the action.

"Look here, old man," he said, " now don't get disgusted. I went through this same thing when I came here, and you may have it for a week, but don't give up. The most of these fellows are not so old as you and I, and look

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46 at things very differently. You've got to put up with some of it—there's a lot else that will make amends. After what happened to-night you'll never be bothered again. But you must not be above things at the first, whether you like them or not. You will have to enter in somehow and have them over with."

"I don't exactly understand you," said Hart.

"Well, just for instance," said Franklin, "there are things that freshmen are expected to do. Why, Heaven knows, but they've always been done. They steal the clapper out of the bell. They paste what they term 'proclamations' all over the scenery, and very often they behave like hyenas. Now, it is not necessary for you to lead in any of this, you see, but you're a freshman, you know, and your class would not like to be sneered at by one of its own members. After a few weeks, or a month or so, you'll have begun to make your friends. Then you can pick out a line of action for yourself. But if there's any way that you can help without doing any harm, pitch in! It may be amusing or not; but then it's a sort of a duty. Now the cane spree——"

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Rh "What's a cane spree?" inquired Hart.

"Well," said Franklin, "the sophs pick out three men from their class, and you pick out three men from yours. They catch hold of a stick and see who can get it. Of course, you'll be chosen."

"Give me a chance," said Hart, grimly.

Franklin laughed. "You'll get it. You'll get your stick, too, old man," he said.

At this moment there came another knock on the door.

"That's Minton," said the senior, as the half-back came into the room.

"Hullo, Buck," he said; "I've fixed things all right with Matt. There'll be no report made of that affair. Matt thinks you're a 'dindy,'" he said, turning to Hart.

"Hope I didn't hurt him," said the latter.

"That 's just what he said about you," replied the half-back, laughing.

"Oh, I guess I 'm all right."

A voice was heard at this juncture in the hallway. "Throw him down, McCloskey," sung in quick-march time, echoed along the walls.

"Here comes Noisy Tom," said Franklin;

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48 and Tommy Wilson appeared on the door-sill.

"Hullo, you've not forgotten me?" he exclaimed, coming into the room, with the chorus of the song still on his lips. "Don't you remember in the Glee Club car in Omaha you told me that I imitated a jackass more successfully than any man you ever met."

They all laughed and Tommy began to talk torrents of words. Hart found himself feeling much more at ease, and when they had all shaken hands with him, he bade them good-night and went to bed, relieved of much of the bitterness that he had felt an hour or so previously. But he dreamed that Matt, the proctor, was gunning for him with a revolver, and that Mabel had come on all the way from Oakland to tell him to "look out for himself."

He was awakened the next morning by the ringing of the chapel bell, and as he walked along the pathway he was conscious that he was being pointed out. He had that uncomfortable feeling that people of retiring dispositions have when they are being talked about.

After the services were over he was joined by several young fellows whom he recognized as

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 HENOTHEISM, PANTHEISM AND MATERIALISM.

Lamentations of Isis and Nephthys.

Lamentations of Isis and Nephihys are a poetical composition supposed to be recited by the two sisters of Osiris for the purpose of effecting his resurrection, but intended to be repeated by two priestly personages over the dead. It has been completely translated for the first time by M. de Horrack. The first section begins with the cries of Isis:

"Come to thine abode, come to thine abode! God An, come to thine abode! Thine enemies are no more. O gracious Sovereign, come to thine abode! Look at me: I am thy sister who loveth thee. Do not remain far from me, O beautiful youth! Come to thine abode, quickly! quickly! I see thee no more. My heart is full of sorrow because of thee. Mine eyes seek after thee. I seek to behold thee: will it be long ere I see thee? will it be long ere I see thee?


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Rh his own classmates, and who apparently esteemed it quite an honor to walk over with him toward the hall in which he was to attend his first recitation.

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 thee is happiness (bis); O god An, beholding thee is happiness. O Unnefer the triumphant, come to thy sister, come to thy wife (bis). O thou whose heart is motionless, come to thy spouse. I am thy sister by thy mother; do not separate from me. Gods and men turn their faces towards thee, weeping together for thee, whenever they behold me. I call thee in my lamentations even to the heights of heaven, and thou hearest not my voice. I am thy sister who loveth thee upon earth; no one else hath loved thee more than I, thy sister, thy sister!"

Then Nephthys takes up the strain:

"O gracious Sovereign, come to thine abode! Rejoice; all thine enemies are annihilated. Thy two sisters are near thee, protecting thy funeral bed; calling thee in weeping, thee who art prostrate on thy funeral bed. Speak to us, supreme Ruler, our Lord. Chase all the anguish which is in our hearts," &c.

In the invocations of which this book chiefly consists, protection is said to be afforded to the body of Osiris, that is, of the deceased person, by various gods in succession: by Isis, Nephthys, Tehuti, Neith, the divine mother of Osiris, and the children of Horus.

The last invocation is as follows: "Come and behold thy son Horus as supreme ruler of gods and men. He hath taken possession of the cities and the districts by the greatness of the respect he inspires. Heaven and earth are in awe of him; the barbarians are in fear of


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 him. Thy companions who are gods and men have become his. … Thy two sisters are near to thee, offering libations to thy ka; thy son Horns accomplished for thee the funeral offering of bread, of beverages, of oxen and of geese. Tehuti chanteth thy festival songs, invoking thee by his beneficial formulae. The children of Horns are the protection of thy members, benefiting thy soul each day. Thy son Horus saluteth thy name in thy mysterious abode; the gods hold vases in their hands to make libations to thee. Come to thy companions, supreme Ruler, our Lord! Do not separate thyself from them."

The rubric prescribes that whilst this is recited, two beautiful women are to sit upon the ground, with the names Isis and Nephthys inscribed upon their shoulders. Crystal vases of water are to be placed in their right hands, and loaves of bread made in Memphis in their left hands.

Book of glorifying Osiris.

Very similar to these Lamentations is the "Book of glorifying Osiris in Aqerti," contained in a papyrus of the Louvre, which has been published and translated by M. Pierret. It is also supposed to be recited by Isis and Nephthys, and it begins:

"Come to thine abode, O come to thine abode, god An, come to thine abode; good bull, the Lord of all men who love thee and all women; god of the


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Rh the question whether he had done wisely or foolishly in coming to college. Another thing would have been apparent—that he was really rather homesick.

The expenses that he found he had to incur were much less than he had had any idea of, but friends had been working for him, and he found that Franklin and Tommy Wilson had secured for him an eating club (where he did not have to wait on the table, but only kept the accounts), and for this small trouble his boarding dues were remitted.

The rent of the small room at Edwards amounted to very little; and the furniture had been purchased fifth or sixth hand at one of the college shops.

Hart was the first in the recitation rooms and the last to leave. He took notes of the professors' lectures with a seriousness that was flattering and which in a freshman is bound to attract attention. In fact, merely on account of his age and personal appearance he had been discussed by the members of the faculty, and it might be said that they as a body had their eyes upon him.

Another thing had happened which was of great importance. He was now president of his

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52 class. This was the result of rather unusual circumstances. At the first class meeting, the freshmen, not knowing one another, were generally disturbed by the sophomores, who crept in to upset the proceedings, if possible. Hart's figure and his age marked him at once, as we have said, among his classmates. He had entered the room in which the meeting was being held and found perfect pandemonium. Young men were jumping up all over the room, some standing on chairs. The meeting was presided over by a junior, who lacked the qualifications necessary to enforce either silence or respect. He was rapping upon the desk with a blackboard eraser, which only sufficed to enclose him in a chalky cloud.

Hart stood in the background for a minute until something that was being said got his ear. He was well up in parliamentary law.

"That's not the way to go about it," he remarked to a slim, pale-featured youth alongside of him. "Why don't they stop all this talk and propose nominations and organize. Let some one have the floor."

"Get up and tell them," said the slim youth, "you can do it."

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Rh Hart stood on a chair. "Gentlemen!" he began.

The effect was quite wonderful. He hushed the gathering as if they had been children (which some of them really were), and to his surprise Hart found himself talking in a low voice, but with intense determination in every gesture of his heavy hand. Order began to reign, and when three or four intruding sophomores, who had been the cause of the uproar, had been unceremoniously bundled out of the room, the chairman announced that nominations were in order for President. Three or four jumped to their feet at once.

"I nominate that man," said a little shrill-voiced boy who managed to get the word in first. He pointed his finger at Hart. "I don't know the gentleman's name," he said, "but it seems to me he'll do."

There was a stamping of feet and an incoherent cheer.

And thus it happened that Newton Wilberforce Hart, of Oakland, Nebraska, had to carry upon his shoulders what he considered a tremendous responsibility, for he took it as a most serious matter.

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196 days being most remarkable. When these and other fast American vessels loaded again in China for English ports, they, of course, added to the competition from which British ships were already suffering.

We have seen how the Oriental brought a cargo of tea from China to England in 1850, and what interest her appearance excited in London. She was soon followed by the Surprise, White Squall, Sea Serpent, Nightingale, Argonaut, Challenge, and other clipper ships built for the California trade. These American clippers received from £6 to £6, 10s freight per ton of forty cubic feet, with immediate despatch, while British ships were loading slowly at £3, 10s per ton of fifty cubic feet. The American ships made fine passages and delivered their teas in excellent condition; but what especially appealed to the Briton was the fact that they had cleared more than their original cost and running expenses on this, their first voyage.

An able English writer, referring to the American clippers engaged in the China tea-trade at this period, remarks: "This new competition proved for a time most disastrous to English shipping, which was soon driven out of favor by the lofty spars, smart, rakish-looking hulls, and famed speed of the American ships, and caused the tea-trade of the London markets to pass almost out of the hands of the English ship-owner. British vessels well manned and well found are known to have lain in the harbor of Foo-chow for weeks together,

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54 An hour after the meeting, as he was puzzling over a Greek verb in his room, he stopped and thought. It was not a conceited thought that had flashed across his mind; but it was this: He might be here for something after all! He could see that his experience was bound to help him. He had felt somehow that these lads, so much younger than himself, were looking to him to help them through, for he had come to regard the freshman year as a very difficult term of service. He longed in truth for the comforts that upper-class men seemed to possess in being able to mind their own business, if nothing else. Yet, although a great deal of the hubbub appeared froth and foolishness to him, he had ceased to hold it all in such contempt.

Since his first night in college no one had attempted to haze or interfere with him. A few whistlings and remarks upon the campus he had ignored entirely. But he was to indulge in one little escapade (which was long afterwards remembered, by the way), and as this makes a story in itself, it may be brought in without really being a digression, before we go deeply into any one's personal history.

Congreve, Golatly, and L. Putney Betts, who

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Rh had attached themselves to Hart, and who apparently were glad to be seen with him, lived in University Hall. If there was any trouble or mischief afoot in the freshman class, Matt, the proctor, had learned by short experience to put their names down first on his list of suspects. Their motto was happily expressed by Mr. Golatly when he said: "What is the use of living, if you are not in it?"

But all this brings us to a night when the class of 189– was only three weeks old. There was dead silence down the corridors at University Hall, when suddenly it was broken by the sound of a low thick voice:

"Ged oop! Ged oop! in dere."

Then followed some incoherent words, and there was a rapping on freshman Congreve's door. It was Steve, the old German nightwatchman, ally of all the freshmen in University Hall.

Hearing the racket, Congreve started up in bed. "Heavens! What's happened?" he said to himself, throwing off the blankets.

"Ged oop quivickly," came in mumbling accents from the hallway. "Vat is de matter

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56 in dere! Vy dond you ged oop, Mr. Congreve?"

"It may be a fire," Congreve said to himself, his heart beginning to thump loudly.

It was pitch dark and two o'clock in the morning—the clock struck the hour just as he opened the door.

"De sophomores are gedding out the proglamations," said Steve in a whisper that could be heard at the end of the corridor.

At first the meaning did not penetrate Congreve's sleep-muddled brain. Finally, however, he remembered what it meant. He, Betts, Terence, Golatly, and Jimmie James, freshmen of course, and as yet in good standing before the faculty, had gone down to Trenton three or four times in the last week to see about the printing of their own class utterances of defiance; wherein the members of the class above them were decried and slurred upon in a jumble of incoherent and turgid English. The sophomores generally began this little game and the printers profited.

As these notices were addressed to the world in general, and often pasted upon long-distance freight cars, they probably had puzzled many

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 countenance, who residest in Aqerti. Ancient one among those of the sacred West. Are not all hearts swelling with love of thee, O Unnefer! … Gods and men raise their hands in search of thee, as a son seeketh his mother. Come to them whose hearts are sick, grant to them to come forth in gladness, that the bands of Horus may exult, and the abodes of Set may fall in fear of thee. Ho! Osiris who dwellest among those in Amenti; I am thy sister Isis; neither god nor goddess hath done what I have done for thee. I am who was a female have done a man's part to give life to thy name upon earth. Thy potent seed within my womb I have set down upon the earth to avenge thee. … Set yields to his wounds, the partizans of Set rejoin him, but the throne of Seb is for thee who art his beloved son." The book continues to speak of the war energetically conducted with the aid of Nephthys and Horus against all the enemies of Osiris. The departed, considered as Osiris, is directly identified with the first cause of all things.

"O Osiris … thou art the Youth at the horizon of heaven daily, and thine old age is the beginning of all seasons. The Nile cometh at the bidding of thy mouth, giving life to men by the emanations which proceed from thy limbs, who by thy coming causest all plants to grow up. … O Osiris, thou art the Lord of millions, raising up all wild animals and all cattle; the creation of all that is proceedeth from thee. To


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Rh who had never heard of the College of New Jersey.

"Have you told Mr. Betts?" inquired Congreve, putting his suspenders over his night-robe.

"He is oop, yes, ten minutes," said Steve; "told me to come and vake you—if I could."

Congreve hurried into a coat, and going down the hallway found Setts' dressing in the dark.

"Now get the others out," the latter said without a word of greeting, "you know the juniors told us to do it quietly. Let's go over and get old 'Cave Canum' and make him fuss for us."

"Have you got the procs?" inquired Congreve.

"Here's a bale of 'em," said Betts, hauling out a long bundle from under the bed. "I have made fresh stickum every night for the last three days, and I have got it in the bathroom, by the great horn spoon!"

He disappeared, and Congreve heard him stumbling about. Suddenly there was a howl, a plash, and the sound of muttering.

Betts's bathroom consisted of a closet, on the floor of which was a big hat tub. In the

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58 he had stepped upon the edge, and the tub had sprung up at him.

Congreve began to laugh. "You're a prize jay," he remarked into the depths of the closet.

"Feel me, I'm soaking wet," was all Betts said when he emerged.

Congreve went off into another fit of laughter. "Hadn't you better mop it up?" he asked.

"No, let it go," replied Betts; "we haven't time. Here, take the magoo."

After producing a complete bill-poster's outfit from the lower bureau drawer, the two conspirators stole down the stairway.

It was a mild September night. There was a deal of dampness in the air, and so dark was it that they could hardly see the path before them as they walked across the campus.

"When we get over to 'Gentle' Hart's, we will divide our forces," said freshman Betts. "Always divide your forces, you know, for strategy's sake."

They entered the hallway at Edwards and stole carefully down to the room that had the legend in green paint, "Cave canum!" upon the panels. Congreve knocked softly with the back of his finger nails and they were admitted.

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Rh Three or four of their classmates had gathered there. The gas was burning low, and a blanket had been tacked up at the narrow little window. Charles Townes, a pursy youth from Washington, D.C., was seated on the edge of the bed. He was yawning. "Gentle" Hart was drawing on a pair of cowhide boots. Jimmie James, "the Hawk-Faced Man," as he was called, was pulling away at a corncob pipe. As the others entered the room questions were fired and answered in hoarse whispers.

The sophomores had been seen a half hour ago, and one of their proclamations was pasted on the side of the railway station. Charlie Townes had read it himself with the aid of a match.

"Why didn't you tear it down?" asked Terence Golatly, who had just come in.

"It had such a good thing on you, McFadden, my boy."

"I would not take your judgment," said Golatly, "you have no wit."

"It's time we were starting, don't you guess?" said Hart, who treated the whole expedition very seriously. He had, the day after his talk with Franklin, received politely a long

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 thee belongeth all that is upon earth; to thee all that is in heaven; to thee all that is in the waters; to thee belongeth all that is in life or in death; to thee all that is male or female. Thou art the sovereign king of the gods, the prince amid the company of the gods."

The text concludes with enumerating a multitude of localities in which Osiris is adored, and is more interesting from a geographical than from a religious point of view. In this composition (the manuscript of which belongs to the time of the twenty-sixth dynasty) the only passages which imply any ethical sympathy are these: "Thou art the lord of Maāt (here signifying righteousness), hating iniquity. … The goddess Maāt is with thee, and the whole day she never withdraweth herself from thee. Iniquity approacheth thee not wherever thou art."

Book of the Breaths of Life.

In the later periods, instead of the Book of the Dead, another work, more systematically composed and partly abridged from it, was buried with the dead and placed under the left arm near the heart. This book was called the Shāit en sensen, "Book of the Breaths of Life, made by Isis for her brother Osiris, for giving new life to his soul and body and renewing all his limbs, that he may reach the horizon with his father the Sun, that his soul may rise to heaven in the disk


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 of the Moon, that his body may shine in the stars of the constellation Orion, on the bosom of Nut." It might be called a Breviary of the Book of the Dead, all the ideas in it being borrowed from that older collection, but the obscurities both in form and in matter are studiously avoided.

It was first published in the plates to the Travels of Vivant-Denon; then Brugsch, in an early publication of his, translated it into Latin, calling it the Book of the Metempsychosis of the ancient Egyptians; and finally, a critical edition has been given of it, with a French translation, by M. de Horrack.

Of the many other compendiums, paraphrases and imitations of the Book of the Dead, I shall only mention one, and that for the sake of a sort of definition which it gives of the gods. The English language is less suited than Greek or German for the translation of cheper chenti chep chet neb em-chet cheper-sen, which is literally, "the Becoming which is in the Becoming of all things when they become." Under this play of words the writer wishes to describe "the cause of change in everything that changes," and he adds: "the mighty ones, the powerful ones, the beneficent, the nutriu, who test by their level the words of men, the Lords of Law (Maāt), Hail to you, ye gods, ye associate gods, who are without body, who rule that which is born from the earth and that which is produced in the house of your cradles [in heaven]. …


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 Ye prototypes of the image of all that exists, ye fathers and mothers of the solar orb, ye forms, ye great ones (uru), ye mighty ones (āaiu), ye strong ones (nutriu), first company of the gods of Almu, who generated men and shaped the form of every form, ye lords of all things: hail to you, ye lords of eternity and everlasting."

The author of this composition, the text of which has only been published quite recently, and was quite unknown to me when I delivered my third Lecture, has evidently the same conception of the gods of Egypt as that which I inferred from the scattered utterances we come across in the course of the national literature. The gods of Egypt are the "mighty ones," the forces acting throughout the universe, in heaven and on earth, according to fixed and unchangeable law, for ever and ever.

Rhind Papyri.

A still more recent book is one which was discovered by Mr. Rhind at Thebes. The papyri are of the Roman period, and they are bilingual. The upper portion of each page is in the ancient language, written in hieratic characters; the lower contains a


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Rh the custom for the succeeding classes to paste their proclamations on each side of the huge letters, and every fall some zealot risked his life to perform this sacred duty.

Down the road in the direction of the water-tower tramped the party in Indian file. On the fence at the roadside near the little church they saw something white and halted.

After several attempts to strike a light, Betts at last succeeded with the last match in the party, and then read the notice aloud. The nonsensical combinations of words and the comical vituperation appeared to anger him.

"Tear it down! Tear the devilish thing down!" he said, and as it had been but freshly pasted up it came off readily.

"Save it," said some one, "as an example of dense ignorance." The proclamation began in the same way as did their own:

"To whom it may concern: Whereas——"

Then on went the little party down the road once more.

hummed Mr. Golatly, as they climbed a fence and went across the meadow.

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 translation into the vernacular language of Egypt in the time of Augustus, and this is written in demotic characters. The form of this work is quite unlike that of the Book of the Dead, but the ideas remain unchanged. The same view of the world beyond the grave, and of the gods who influence the destiny of the departed, prevails to the last. The actual deification of the departed is not perpetually dwelt upon, but it is distinctly recognized. "Thou art the eldest brother among the five gods to whom thou art going" (Osiris is called in the Book of the Dead the eldest of the five gods of the family of Seb). "O thou august child of the gods and goddesses, thou king of the gods and men, who art king of the Tuat," that is, of the nether world. And there is the same disregard of consistency as in the older times, for the departed is spoken of, almost in the same sentence, as one of those who are in the service of Osiris, whom he addresses, "O my lord and father Osiris!"

Magical Literature.

One of the chief differences between the earlier and the more recent formularies is, that the latter are simply


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62 "Hush! " said the ex-deputy, suddenly; "Don't you hear voices?" They listened. Sure enough. Some one was talking, and the sound came from up in the air, above their heads. Before them loomed the great shape of the iron tower.

"They are at work now," said Congreve, in an excited whisper. Just then a light was struck by some one standing at the bottom of the ladder, which climbed a leg of the tripod and then stretched along the perpendicular sides of the great cylinder itself. The match was used to light a pipe, and the watchers by the fence saw that there was only one figure at the bottom.

"If we could only get hold of him," said Betts, "without the others knowing it, eh!"

"Let's try it," said Hart, in a whisper.

All at once the conversation between the top of the tower and the figure at the bottom of the ladder became more audible.

"Send up that paste, Reddy," called a voice from the sky.

"Y-y-you've got it y-y-yourself," stuttered the voice from below.

"No, we haven't," from the top of the tower.

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Rh "W-w-well, I-I haven't s-s-seen it," came from below again.

There was some consultation, and a few angry words from the top. Then another hail.

"Chump says he left it at the fence. I've got half a mind to throw him off." There were some more words.

"Th-th-throw him off," said the figure at the bottom. There was no answer to this, and a long silence followed.

"That's the little red-headed Smart Aleck that was at the 'Prep' with me two years ago," whispered Golatly. "Hush! they're speaking again."

"Go find that paste, Reddy, you jackass!" came the order in the voice that had done all the talking from the sky.

The short figure with the pipe stammered something in reply, and grumblingly stumbled down the path to where the party of freshmen were lying beneath the fence. As he threw his leg over the top rail he was grasped in a pair of mighty arms.

It was one of the peculiarities of the red-headed one's impediment of speech that when excited he became absolutely tongue-tied, and

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60 lecture from a condescending junior upon proclamation posting and clapper stealing, and seeing that it was placed before him in the light of a duty, he had determined to enter into the venture because it was expected of him; but his expressed opinion was that it was "stuff and nonsense."

L. Putney Betts was chosen to lay out the plan of campaign, and at once sent one of the group around to rouse up a dozen or so of the larger freshmen and tear down the proclamations of the enemy, while he and his party devoted themselves to placing the counter-irritant in conspicuous places.

On the top of the hill to the southward of the Theological Seminary was the iron water-tower of Princeton. It stretched upwards like a huge stove-pipe on a tripod of iron beams and was not an ornament in reckoning up the beauties of the landscape. But it had its uses.

Some time before, an adventurous freshman had been lowered by his companions at the end of a rope, and had painted his class numerals in huge orange and black letters on the side of the iron tank some eighty or ninety feet above the ground. Since then it had

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 said over the deceased, instead of being intended to be said by him. Hence the absence of the constant personification of the gods by the dead, and the utterance in their names of words of power. This assimilation to divinity, which appears to be the most potent means of overcoming all dangers and disasters after death, was equally resorted to for the purpose of triumphing over all the dangers and disasters of the present life. The metaphysical axiom, that every effect has its cause, the Egyptians conceived in another way; namely, that everything that happened was owing to the action of some divinity. They believed therefore in the incessant intervention of the gods; and their magical literature is based on the notion of frightening one god by the terrors of a more powerful divinity, either by prayer placing a person under the protection of this divinity, or by the person actually assuming its name and authority. Disease and pain being caused by the intervention of some god, the efficacy of the medicines which are taken is owing chiefly to the prayers or incantations


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Rh for a cargo, and seeing American clippers coming in, loading, and sailing immediately with full cargoes, at a higher freight than they could command.

"This soon became a matter of serious moment, and the arrival of these vessels in the Thames caused great excitement, and aroused no small amount of curiosity and criticism. Even the attention of the Government became attracted towards them, and draughtsmen were sent from the Admiralty to take off the lines of two of the most famous—the Challenge and the Oriental—when they were in Messrs. Green's drydock."

This state of affairs could not, of course, continue without further arousing British ship-owners and builders to the danger of their position. Here was not one vessel, but a fleet of American clippers bringing cargoes from China at double the rates of freight that British ships could command, and unless some measures were adopted to check this invasion no one could predict where it might end. That British merchants paid so liberally to get their teas to a home market was certainly not because they cherished any special affection for American ships or their owners. They would have been quite as willing to pay British clippers the same freights, had there been any such to receive them, or even Chinese junks, provided the service could have been performed by them as quickly and as well. So we find the British ship-owners and builders of that period forced to exert their finest skill and most ardent energy. The firm of Jardine, Matheson & Co., of London

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198 and China, were the owners of the first clipper ship built in Great Britain. This vessel was the Stornaway, 506 tons, launched from the yard of Alexander Hall & Co., at Aberdeen, toward the close of 1850 for the China trade. It will be recalled that this firm had built the clipper schooner Torrington, for the same owners, four years before. The new ship was named for Stornoway Castle, Lewis, one of the Hebrides Isles, which was then owned by Sir James Matheson, and to which he retired after his long and successful career as ship-owner and merchant in the China trade.

It cannot be said that the Stornoway was a copy of any American model, as a comparison of dimensions will clearly show. Comparing her measurements with those of the American clipper barque Race Horse, of 512 tons register, built by Samuel Hall at East Boston in the same year, we find:

Thus the Stornoway, while she exceeded the Race Horse by 32 feet 8 inches in length and by 1 foot 8 inches in depth, yet had 4 feet 4 inches less breadth; and here began a contest, which extended over so many years, of breadth against length and depth. There can be no doubt that the Stornoway with more beam and the Race Horse with more length and depth, would have been faster, but at the same time considerably larger vessels.

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64 he carefully avoided allowing his feelings to get the better of him. For this same reason now he was so surprised that he could not utter a word, and the freshman from Nebraska, taking him at such a disadvantage, hurried down the road. He carried the little sophomore as if he were a bag of meal.

Then led by freshman Betts, the rest of the party stepped quickly forward to the base of the water-tower. A white bundle was lying there on the ground.

"Jove! It's their own proclamations," whispered Golatly in Congreve's ear.

"Are you down there, Reddy? Where's that paste?"

"A-a-all right!" answered Golatly, with a good imitation of the stutterer, "S-s-send down a r-r-rope."

"It's hanging alongside the ladder, you bally idiot!" said the voice.

There, sure enough, was a stout cord reaching almost to the ground, and within easy reach.

"P-p-paste on s-s-six," stammered Mr. Golatly, tying a bundle of his own class proclamations at the end of the string. Then he attached

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Rh the freshman paste-pot, and the party on top hauled them up. In the darkness the papers looked much alike, the only difference being that the sophomore effusion was printed in dark-green ink, instead of black.

"All O.K.," came the answer from the top of the tower.

"Say, you fellows, I-I-I'm going back to the college," stuttered Golatly, nudging Congreve, and taking up the bundle of papers from the ground. There were some observations from above, but Mr. Golatly vouchsafed no reply, and in the darkness the party stole back to the road.

When they reached it, the success of the exploit was too much for them, and Betts fairly rolled in the dirt.

"McFadden," he said to Golatly, "come to me arms, you're a jewel!"

"I say, you chaps," said Congreve, "let's tear up their 'procs,' and leave a trail along the road. Oh ! vote me a piano!"

It was no sooner said than done, and one of the bundles was divided and the fragments scattered by the roadside.

They had found the sophomores' bucket of

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 which are said over them. Isis is the great enchantress, and she delivers the sick and suffering from the gods and goddesses who afflict them, even as she delivered her son Horus from his wounds received in his battle with Set. The sun-god Rā had himself been ill, and the gods Shu, Tefnut, Seb, Nut and Isis, had prepared medicine for him. Even when no medicines are taken, palm-sprigs may serve as a charm, if a formula be pronounced relative to the palm-branch with which Horus defended himself against Set, and if Isis, the mother of Horus, be invoked. But sometimes the speaker boldly says, "I am Anubis, the son of Nephthys; I am Anubis, the son of Rā; I am Horus, I am Amon, I am Mentu, I am Set." Sometimes threats are uttered. The person using the spell relies upon his knowledge, and consequently on his power of revealing mysterious secrets. "N., son of N., is the messenger of Rā. … He is the messenger of every god and every goddess, and he utters the proclamation of Tehuti. N., son of N., knows the mysterious chest which is in Heliopolis, and all the hidden things of Heliopolis." "If he who is in the waters opens his mouth, … I will cause the earth to fall into the sea, the south to be changed into the north, and the whole world to be overturned." There is a terrible spell in behalf of a lady in childbirth. The lady is first identified with Isis, and the gods are invoked to prepare a place for her delivery. They are told that, in case of their not doing


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66 paste at the fence corner, and had also found Hart and his captive seated on the railing of a small bridge across a little brook a full mile down the road.

"What shall we do with him?" questioned Hart, removing his arm from the sophomore's shoulder.

"Make him carry the paste. That's what they would do to one of us," said Congreve.

"Don't you trust him with it," put in Golatly; "just have him walk along with us for fun. He's real good company."

The red-headed one was so angry, and had been so frightened at his captor's seriousness, that he did not reply. They were standing just then beside a high board fence which guarded the property of one of the professors.

"Let's begin to put them here," said Congreve.

Under the branches of the great pines which extended above the wall, it was darker than ever. They could hardly see the printing. Golatly smothered one with the "stickum," and put it on the boards. A few yards farther down he did the same thing again. The captive meahwhile had been standing close to the

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 316 ships were still sold in England, but this was rather because their owners had no profitable use for them at home than from any lack of British iron vessels. Since that period, the decline of American shipping, for reasons that should be well understood, has been constant.

I refer to the Navigation Laws and Protective Tariff of the United States. The former, first enacted in 1792 and revised and added to since that time only in unimportant details, have long outlived the usefulness they may once have possessed), and completely fail to meet the requirements of the changes in ocean navigation that have taken place during the period of more than a century that has since elapsed. As is well known, they prohibit an American citizen from owning a foreign-built merchant ship. Meanwhile the Protective Tariff so increases the cost of living and with it the cost of the labor and materials that go into the construction of a modern ship, that the American ship-builder cannot produce a steel or iron vessel at anything like a cost that will enable her to compete successfully with a ship of the same class constructed in a European shipyard. Were it not for this hindrance, the immense natural advantages of such broad, deep waters as those of the Delaware and Chesapeake, where the finest coal and iron ore are within easy transportation, and the abundant food supplies of the neighboring garden States and of the West which are easily accessible, would make them ideal spots for the construction of ships. So it will be seen that the Navigation Laws and Protective Tariff are the

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Rh fence, smoking furiously, the ember in his pipe glowing like a fierce red eye. A dozen or so of the big pasters were distributed in this manner without any comment.

"Where shall we put the rest?" said Congreve, turning to the group, for they had come to the end of the fence.

"I-I-know a good place," stammered the red-headed one, suddenly. "If you will l-l-let go of my hand, you g-g-great big stuff, I'll tell you where it is."

Hart had been leading him along much as a nurse would take an unruly child out for an airing.

"Where is it ? " asked Golatly, surprised.

"T-t-other side of town. You will have to hurry. It's where we were going to p-p-put ours."

The big fellow dropped his hand at this traitorous speech, and the prisoner pulled each of his fingers separately to be sure they were in place, then, with a "Come on, you Fresh!" he turned down a lane that led them back along the road.

"I-I-I give you my word of honor, I-I-won't run away," he said, breaking the silence (Hart

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 so, "You shall be undone, you cycle of the gods; there shall no longer be any earth; there shall no longer be the five supplementary days of the year; there shall be no more any offerings to the gods, lords of Heliopolis. There shall be a sinking of the southern sky, and disasters shall come from the sky of the north; there shall be cries from the tomb; the midday sun shall no longer shine; the Nile shall not furnish its waters at its wonted time. It is not I who say this; it is not I who repeat it; it is Isis who speaketh; she it is who repeateth it."

The very same kind of threats are spoken of by Porphyry, about 270 A.D., as mentioned by Chaeremon, a sacerdotal scribe in the first century, and affirmed by him to be of potent efficacy. "What a height of madness," says Porphyry, "does it not imply in the man who thus threatens what he neither understands nor is able to perform, and what baseness does it not attribute to the beings who are supposed to be frightened by these vain bugbears and figments, like silly children!" An Egyptian priest of the name of Abammon is introduced in the work of Jamblichos as replying to the objections of Porphyry. He distinguishes between the gods, properly speaking, and the, who are subordinate ministers, and he says that it is to the latter alone that threats are used. And the authority of the theurgist he derives from identification with the divinity. But the days of the Egyptian


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68 had transferred his grasp to the collar of his coat); "I-I-like you fellows anyhow," he added.

Truth was, there was a bare chance just then of Reddy's joining their ranks and losing his sophomoric standing through a process of faculty conclusions. But this was not in his mind at the present speaking.

"It's a great place. We'd have never thought of looking here for them," said Congreve, as their pilot stopped before a building on the right of the road. "By Jove! How dark it is! Take care! This is barbed wire!"

The sophomore now appeared quite as eager as the rest at the success of the venture. He held up the strand of sharp points and pointed out good places to paste the proclamation. So black was it that these desecrators of the township seat of learning had to feel their way, but they pasted six of the big papers in conspicuous positions and went back into the road.

"Now there are as-as good places all the way along t-t-toward t-t-town. Please let me go now, I've done the best I could," said the sophomore.

So at every fence and every gate post they

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Rh left a memento of their journeying. It was growing a bit lighter and they could discern faint streaks in the eastern sky, when suddenly Freshman Simeon Tolker Congreve started as he smoothed out the last poster.

"Fellows!" he exclaimed, "they are all printed in green; they're the sophomores'! Those were our 'procs' we tore up! Great Peter! Aren't we Lulus!"

"Where 's that red-headed, stuttering rascal?" said Golatly.

"I don't know," said Hart, from the top of a fence. "He was here a minute ago."

Then he laughed, but he was the only one who viewed matters in a comical light.

"We are a pack of fools," said Golatly, seriously. "I'm going to send a bill for my services."

Congreve half smiled. "Let's go back and tear them all down," he said.

"You don't catch me, "said Hart; "I'm going back to bed."

In the bright morning light the six freshman manifestoes upon the water-tower were the only ones to be seen, but the roadsides were covered with the screeds of their natural and hereditary enemies, only half obliterated.

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70 The red-headed sophomore, whose name was Mudge, publicly stated that he had compelled the freshmen to follow his orders by the mere effect of his commanding voice and gesture.

"M-m-mind over m-m-matter," he said.

Terence Golatly celebrated the affair at the water-tower in blank verse, and a member of the faculty related the story with gusto at a meeting of that august body, where, strange to relate, they often crack jokes and often laugh at such nonsensical foolishness as this.

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User talk:36.248.22.169

A from this account or IP address, which appeared to be a test edit, was removed or reverted. Please use the sandbox for this purpose. The community portal has information on contributing to this library.

Page in question: Talk:Catholic Encyclopedia (1913)/Jean Cousin. --Slgrandson (talk) 02:24, 21 January 2013 (UTC)

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274 "So I hear," Mrs. Carter replied. "Oh, by the way, Raymond Danforth, Mrs. Trevellian's cousin is going to be there also. He was at the Club House this morning."

"I saw him," put in Billy, looking up from his algebra. "He looks like a Frenchman."

"I promised Mrs. Trevellian that you would come, so don't say you won't," Mrs. Carter went on, smiling. "No need of writing; I'm going to see her in a few minutes, and I'll just tell her that you will come with pleasure."

"Thank you," said Hart, "I will."

Mrs. Carter had a way of taking everyone under her roof into her family, her servants included. Perhaps they were allowed more privileges than hired servitors generally are, but they certainly appreciated their positions. She had been criticised perhaps for allowing too much familiarity between herself and the people in her household, but it was a familiarity that had resulted in no disrespect, or impertinent assumption. She would nurse a sick servant as conscientiously as she would anyone of her kindred.

Although Hart did not suspect it, he had won a large share of her generous affection.

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Rh She was quite as proud of him as were her two fine boys. Although she had never penetrated the reserve that characterized him, she had found out not a little about his past life and his aspirations. Plainly enough she had shown her interest and friendship. Hart had grown to think of her, in return for this, as belonging to the type of women who live for others and bring happiness into the world. This was true, for Mrs. Carter, despite a rather careless attitude, had no thought but that of doing good, and selfishness or self-interest had been left out of her composition. She was like an older sister to her boys, without losing in their eyes a whit of the dignity of motherhood.

Mrs. Trevellian's house was a very small one; in fact, she referred to it as the "Bandbox." It was built into a side-hill, and the rooms on the ground floor merged into the hallway through very large doorways. But the hangings and decorations were as dainty as possible. The treasures that good taste had accumulated, and knew well how to display, were in evidence, but made no show of lavish expenditure. There was little trace of

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276 suggestion, and but few evidences of the sterner sex's presence. These evidences consisted of an abundance of ash-trays and cigarettes on table and mantelpiece, and a series of handsome decanters on the sideboard in the tiny dining-room to the left. The kitchen of the little house, Mrs. Trevellian had once insisted, was no larger than the fireplace of the Country Club. But the dantiestdaintiest [sic] of dinners came from this diminutive kitchen nevertheless, and an invitation to Mrs. Trevellian's was valued accordingly.

As Hart helped Mrs. Carter out of the carriage and entered the hallway, he heard the chatter of voices rising from behind a tall screen in the little drawing-room on the right.

The grave-faced little buttons took his hat and coat and then turned to someone who had entered from the outside without ringing the bell. It was Raymond Danforth, and his surprise at seeing Hart was ill-concealed.

"Well, where under the sun did you come from?" he inquired quietly, extending his hand.

"From Mrs. Carter's. I'm tutor to her two boys," Hart replied.

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Rh "Oh, that's the game now," spoke Danforth smiling superciliously. "Soft snap, eh? Quite in clover."

Hearing the sound of voices, Mrs. Travellian stepped from behind the screen.

"Come in, come in," she said. "We have had a hen party here for some time."

Mrs. Carter at this moment came down the stairs, as light-footed, despite her plump figure, as a school-girl. The two young men stepped aside for her to pass them, and Mrs. Trevellian touched her lightly on the cheek.

"Late, as usual," she said laughing. Then she turned to Danforth who had stepped ahead of Hart. "I had half a mind not to ask you, Ray," she laughed. "You never call upon your relatives."

"A most cruel speech," Danforth said, taking her hand and kissing it, an act that became his appearance very well.

"Oh, Mr. Hart, I am so glad you could come," went on Mrs. Trevellian, extending her disengaged hand and shaking his warmly. "I want to present you to Miss Hollingsworth."

"Mr. Hart and I are old friends," said a voice with a musical diapason.

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278 Once more he felt the gray eyes look into his. His pulse beat fast. Oh, how he loved this tall girl! Her very presence seemed to lend a different atmosphere to the breathing space about her. But he controlled himself and asked the news of Kenmore quietly. Then Mrs. Trevellian spoke to him in a way that demanded his undivided attention and Raymond Danforth settled himself on the sofa beside Miss Hollingsworth.

Hart shot a glance at him. Despite Danforth's collected manner, the condition of his feelings was readable with half an eye, and, moreover, his attitude showed that he did not consider it necessary to maintain a worshipful distance. He leaned toward her, supporting his head on his hand, with his elbow on the back of the sofa, Miss Hollingsworth sat very straight and listened to what he was murmuring with an expressionless face. She did not possess any manifestations of nervousness. She did not play with her rings, or twist her gloves. Many people who did not know her had thought that her nature was a cold one. This was not true; her balance was perfect, and her self-control wonderful. But the warmest

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Rh of hearts beat within her, and her tears were more often near the surface than even her nearest friends suspected.

Hart found that he was to sit next to Mrs. Trevellian, on her right. Just before dinner was announced by the pretty, red-cheeked maid, the sixth member of the party made his appearance.

Count Von Gillig hardly deserves description. His title was beyond dispute, and his opinions were not worth disputing; but he was not a bad person to have at a dinner. He had an appreciative appetite, and a desire to make himself entertaining. This with good manners made him bearable as a table companion. What he said often excited laughter that apparently pleased him, and Mrs. Carter declared that he was so silly that he was absolutely entertaining. The Count sat on the hostess's left, next to Miss Hollingsworth, and Raymond Danforth was at the head of the table. Mrs. Trevellian had a great admiration for good-looking men, in spite of her experience with one who was more renowned for his good looks than for anything else, and Hart's appearance had rather impressed her the first time

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280 she had seen him, and, now, as she turned to speak to him, she caught such a far-away expression on his face, that she rather studied it before she spoke to interrupt his thoughts. "Scarcely handsome," she said to herself, "but powerful." What she said was rather flippant, however. "Thinking of home and mother, Mr. Hart?" she inquired.

"Well, no; not exactly, Mrs. Trevellian," he answered composedly. "I possess neither."

"Pardon me, it was only your expression that led me to speak so foolishly," she said, a bit taken aback. "Really your mind was somewhere else. Your reply might prompt another question—you suggest that you are a mystery."

Hart laughed. "If you think so, I will help you solve me."

"No, you wouldn't," replied Mrs. Trevellian. "I'm of a curious temper, and you would answer my questions so cautiously, that I would learn nothing. But I won't begin now because we might be interrupted. Somehow I think your forte is politics."

It was the year of a presidential election; the country was all agog upon a question of a vital

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Rh national issue. Count Von Gillig had caught the word 'politics.'

"What a strange thing it is," he said, "I have never met politicians in this country. Do they live all the year round in Washington? Why do they hide themselves? I luf to talk politics but they will not let me."

"Unfortunately," put in Danforth from the head of the table, "it is not considered polite conversation, Count; and there are ladies present."

"Probably we would enjoy sensible talk more than you have any idea of, Mr. Danforth," said Mrs. Carter, "and know more about the subject than you think we do."

"All women know more than most men think they do," said the little German, who very often said rather clever things, as if by accident—really he was no fool.

"It is nonsense to suppose that women don't take interest in such matters," put in Mrs. Trevellian. "Somebody, I have forgotten who, persuaded me to sign a paper begging somebody, or some legislature, or something, to allow us women a chance to vote. I think we should. Don't you, Madge?" this to Miss Hollingsworth.

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282 "No," was the rejoinder; "I'm very glad I don't have to." She looked across the table at Hart with a quizzical little smile. "I don't object though to hearing sensible discussion," she added. "Or being told why men vote for one thing or the other. If I were a man, I should be sure to know reasons, and be willing to give them."

"Well, there are no sensible reasons why any one should vote for the candidate from the Middle States," observed Danforth, as if that settled the matter.

"Pardon me," said Hart, "I think there are."

"Bravo," said Mrs. Carter, clapping her hands. "Tell us why."

Nothing had been farther from his thoughts than to start a political discussion by thus taking up Danforth's words, and he rather regretted having spoken so hastily.

"Yes; tell us why," Danforth repeated, taking a sip of champagne, and leaning forward in an attitude of attention.

"You have my permission," said Mrs. Trevellian.

Hart began to talk. He knew well the

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Rh before him, and although he grew interested and was earnest, he did not allow himself to become excited in the least. Danforth encourged him to go on by little questions and interjections. So he talked longer than, perhaps, otherwise he should. At last, it came to his mind that he was really taking up too much time. The Count, with a visibly bored expression, was regarding him through a single eyeglass, and at last he caught a smile on Raymond Danforth's face, and stopped.

"Well, what can you say to that, Mr. Danforth?" said Mrs. Carter, to whom the references and general subject might have been Greek or Hebrew.

"Humph," observed Danforth. "After such a fine oration as that, there is nothing to be said. I saw your friend, Mrs. Ellsworth, at Newport this year," he added, smiling as if taking advantage of getting rid of the subject.

Hart looked down at his plate. It had not struck him before that a long speech on the political situation was hardly table-talk. He saw immediately that it had been Danforth's intention to make him ridiculous, if possible. He was angry at himself, and angry at the

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284 with which Danforth had begun and then dismissed the matter. But glancing up he saw that Miss Hollingsworth was looking at him. There was an expression on her face that drove every angry feeling from his mind. Her eyes met his, but for an instant; but there flashed from them a glance of sympathy and understanding, with something else lurking behind it, that might have indicated a suddenly awakened interest or admiration. Mrs. Trevellian, who had caught it, gave a little start.

"What you said, Mr. Hart," she laughed, "makes me wish more than ever that I could vote, but now we are going to leave you to your cigars."

After the ladies had left, Danforth apparently ignored Hart's presence altogether and began a long discussion in German with Count Gillig. Hart sat silently smoking, and his thoughts ranged wide. What was it all tending to? Where would he fetch up? Somehow he longed for the old, untroubled life that he had led when a clerk in the store at Oakland. He pictured to himself Mr. Van Clees and his wife, sitting in the little front room upstairs with the

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Rh parlor melodeon locked and tuneless. Poor little Mabel! He had not thought of her of late, and no word had he heard for three years now. What a strange thing his short friendship with Danforth had been. Why was it that life held so many complications ? Here she was, and yet so far away from him. He had hardly spoken to her. How hard it was to keep from saying the words that kept repeating themselves over and over to his inner consciousness. He had finished his cigar, or, at least, it had gone out, and suddenly arising, he pushed back the portiere and entered the next room. With that gesture of invitation that is really a welcome, Miss Hollingsworth made room for him to sit beside her on the sofa.

"Do you know," she said, "it was very fine of you to speak the way you did to-night. I enjoyed every word of it, and what is more," she added with a smile, "I think I understood it. Do you know, I have wanted to speak to you all the evening. There is something that I have wished to say, that I could not say before everybody, because I knew you would not like it——"

Just then the curtains were pulled apart and

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286 with a laugh the Count and Danforth came into the room.

Unseen by Hart Miss Hollingsworth's fan had slipped to the floor. The Count hastened forward and picked it up, bowing extravagantly, and then standing before her for all the world like a terrier dog that demanded to have its head patted. There was no chance for Madge to finish what she was going to say. She glanced up at Newton hopelessly, and just then Mrs. Trevellian called him, a summons he felt compelled to obey.

But before she left, however, Madge found chance to say to him, "Do come and see us; we are stopping at the Inn at Rockcoast."

As Mrs. Carter and Hart drove home that night the kind lady delivered herself of the following little speech:

"You were perfectly right to say what you did, dear boy," giving him a friendly touch on the back of the hand, "and that nasty little snip made me so mad I could have scratched him." Hart did not reply as there was nothing he could think of to say at the moment. What it was that Miss Hollingsworth had intended to speak to him about, he could not imagine, but

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Rh the next morning after the lessons with the boys were over, he started across country for Rockcoast,—a little collection of houses on the stony shore of the wide bay. The Inn was a picturesque little building, that, although it was very new had the appearance of having stood where it was for years.

"Miss Hollingsworth was here with her mother but a few moments ago," said the clerk, replying to Hart's inquiry. "I think you will find them down at the observatory."

The observatory was a small summer-house built out upon the rocks, but a few hundred yards across the road from the Inn. A little stretch of sandy beach was at one side and a few commodious-looking bath-houses stood in from sight at the bottom of the little cliff.

Newton caught a glimpse of some people seated against the railing, but before he had crossed the road, a tall girl arose and hastened down the steps; he met her on the walk.

"I recognized you as you came from the Inn, Mr. Hart," said Madge Hollingsworth. "To-day is no day for sitting still; let's take a little stroll and I can tell you what I didn't get a chance to tell you last night."

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288 "I've been wondering what it was," was Newton's answer, as he looked down at her.

She lowered her eyes for a minute, and then nodding her head, she said, "Let's walk up in this direction, along the rocks, and I can begin."

He did not reply. The delight of being with her kept him silent, and he waited for her to speak again.

"Mr. Hart," she said at last, turning to him, as they left the road and took a worn pathway to the left, "Kenmore told us something when we saw him in England, so long ago, and I wish to thank you for what you did. He told us that you saved his life. Mamma of course wants to thank you too. She has just gone out driving, but you must wait until you see her. You know it's hard to put one's feelings in words, but I love Kenmore, and I have worried about him very much. You have been—"

"It wasn't anything to do," Newton blurted out, "so please don't try to say anything more about it. I just happened to see him first, that's all."

"I understand."

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Rh There was a little quiver in the corner of her mouth and a curious shake in her voice. For a minute they strolled on in silence.

"You know, I think that Kenmore has much improved; I can't tell exactly how, but we had a long talk when I met him; something we haven't had for years. Although he is older than I by a year and more, I sometimes feel as if he were much the younger."

"I misjudged him very much at first," Hart returned, "but really I soon found out what a fine fellow he was."

"Tell me," she asked suddenly, "what do you think of Mr. Danforth?"

"I think he is a very uncommonplace man," Newton answered quietly, "with a remarkable mind and a chance in life, if he should choose to use it. Such a thing as failure, he would not understand."

"I take you to mean that with a strong incentive he could accomplish a great deal," said the girl, pausing for a minute and looking out over the water, "and that his real capacities have not been awakened."

"Yes," Hart answered, "that would be a good way to put it."

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