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 a halt, save the limits of the space allotted by grudging newspapers and periodicals.

Yet brevity is the soul of song, no less than the soul of wit. Those lovely lyrics, swift as the note of a bird on the wing, imperishable as a jewel, haunting as unforgotten melody, are the fruits of artifice no less than of inspiration. In eight short lines, Landor gave "Rose Aylmer" to an entranced and forever listening world. There is magic in the art that made those eight lines final. A writer of what has been cynically called "socialized poetry" would have spent the night of "memories and sighs" in probing and specifying his emotions.

The conservative's inheritance from the radical's lightly rejected yesterdays gives him ground to stand on, and a simplified point of view. In that very engaging volume, "The Education of Henry Adams," the autobiographer tells us in one breath how much he desires 94