was just as good as an
original, if you could not detect it. But Herbert said that the closer
an imitation is to an original, the more unendurable it is. But nobody
could tell exactly why.

The Fire-Tender said that we are imposed on by forms. The nuggets of
wisdom that are dug out of the Oriental and remote literatures would
often prove to be only commonplace if stripped of their quaint setting.
If you gave an Oriental twist to some of our modern thought, its value
would be greatly enhanced for many people.

I have seen those, said the Mistress, who seem to prefer dried fruit to
fresh; but I like the strawberry and the peach of each season, and for
me the last is always the best.

Even the Parson admitted that there were no signs of fatigue or decay in
the creative energy of the world; and if it is a question of Pagans, he
preferred Mandeville to Saadi.

ELEVENTH STUDY

It happened, or rather, to tell the truth, it was contrived,--for I have
waited too long for things to turn up to have much faith in "happen,"
that we who have sat by this hearthstone before should all be together
on Christmas eve. There was a splendid backlog of hickory just beginning
to burn with a glow that promised to grow more fiery till long past
midnight, which would have needed no apology in a loggers' camp,--not so
much as the religion of which a lady (in a city which shall be nameless)
said, "If you must have a religion, this one will do nicely."

There was not much conversation, as is apt to be the case when people
come together who have a great deal to say, and are intimate enough to
permit the freedom of silence. It was Mandeville who suggested that we
read something, and the Young Lady, who was in a mood to enjoy her own
thoughts, said, "Do." And finally it came about that the Fire Tender,
without more resistance to the urging than was becoming, went to his
library, and returned with a manuscript, from which he read the story of

MY UNCLE IN INDIA

Not that it is my uncle, let me explain. It is Polly's uncle, as I
very well know, from the many times she has thrown him up to me, and
is liable so to do at any moment. Having small expectations myself, and
having wedded Polly when they were smaller, I have come to feel the full
force, the crushing weight, of her lightest remark about "My Uncle in
India." The words as I write them convey no idea of the tone in which
they fall upon my ears. I think it is the only fault of t