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of covert  deceit  and  pharisaical  humbug,  less  of  that white lying  and  envy  and  jealousy  which  constitutes the pabulu?n  of  older  religious  and  fashionable  societies. Loyalty to  an  honest  and  enlightened  ideal  is,  after all, the  truest  morality. Ill-fitting forms,  provoking dissimulation and  falseness,  keep  the  social  pool  always turbid. Experience tells  us  that  wickedness,  in  greater or less  degree,  is  inseparable  from  human  nature;  to hide  away  the  evil,  and  cover  our  wrong-doing  with placid smiles,  polished  bearing,  or  sanctimonious  coun- tenance, may not  be,  after  all,  the  surest  way  of eradicating  it.

A world  of  ideas  was  here  flung  into  a  world  of practise,  and  until  right  was  ready,  force  must  rule.

Like the  returning  heroes  of  the  Trojan  war,  every leader has  his  history  and  historian,  each  one  of  whom sought to  outdo  the  rest  in  their  relation  of  daring deeds and  marvelous  tales,  all  leaving  far  behind  in this  respect  yEschylus  and  Agamemnon.

Once when  evening  had  stretched  the  shadows across the  street,  I  saw  a  man  of  middle  age,  robust and proud,  pouring  into  the  bosom  of  a  friend  a  tor- rent of sorrow,  accompanied  by  bashful,  agonizing tears. The cause  of  his  grief  I  know  not. It may have been  the  destruction  of  his  hopes  by  fire,  for  on every  side  were  the  smoking  cinders  of  a  recent  con- flagration which had  laid  hundreds  low,  and  caused many a  strong  man  to  weep  internally  if  not  in  actual tears. And who  shall  blame  them,  brave  men  though they be,  for  this  is  the  third,  or  fourth,  or  fifth  ruin with some  of  them,  the  third  or  fifth  time  fate  has sent them  forth  with  only  their  head  and  two  hands to begin  life  anew. I did  not  stop  to  listen,  gaze,  or question. With grief  such  as  this,  no  stranger  inter- meddleth.

Yet to  the  disappointed  man  of  toil  I  would  say, yield thee  not. Yet another  blow,  and  another,  and another. As long  as  thou  canst  strike,  I  care  not for the  result,  thou  art  not  overcome. A