endliness; to solve little problems of
practical moment; to acquire the pride of self-reliance. We have
competitions, such as certain newspapers open to their readers, in a
simple form. I draw up the questions myself. The answers give me insight
into the mental conditions of the competitors. Upon insight I proceed. I
am fortunate in private means, and I am in a position to offer modest
prizes to the winners. Whenever such an one is discharged, he finds
awaiting him the tools most handy to his vocation. I bid him go forth
in no pharisaical spirit, and invite him to communicate with me. I wish
the shadow of the gaol to extend no further than the road whereon it
lies. Henceforth, we are acquaintances with a common interest at heart.
Isn't it monstrous that a state-fixed degree of misconduct should earn a
man social ostracism? Parents are generally inclined to rule extra
tenderness towards a child whose peccadilloes have brought him a
whipping. For myself, I have no faith in police supervision. Give a
culprit his term and have done with it. I find the majority who come back
to me are ticket-of-leave men.

"Have I said enough? I offer you the reversion of the post. The present
holder of it leaves in a month's time. Please to determine here and at
once."

"Very good. I have decided."

"You will accept?"

"Yes."

* * * * *

So far wrote Polyhistor in the bonny days of early manhood--an attempt
made in a spasm of enthusiasm inspired in him and humoured by his most
engaging Mentor, to record his first impressions of a notable personality
not many days after its introduction to him. He has never taken up the
tale again until now, when an insistent sense, as of a task left
unfinished, compels him to the effort. Over his sweet Mentor the grass
lies thick, and flowers of aged stalk bloom perennially, and "Oh, the
difference to me!"

To _me_, for it is time to drop the poor conceit, the pseudonym that once
served its little purpose to awaken tender derision.

I take up the old and stained manuscript, with its marginalia, that are
like the dim call from a far-away voice, and I know that, so I am driven
to record the sequel to that gay introduction, it must be in a spirit of
sombreness most deadly by contrast. I look at the faded opening words.
The fire of the first line of the narrative is long out; the grate is
cold some forty years--forty years!--and I think I have been a little
chill during