s we were paying the same visit, we travelled in
the train together; but when we got out at that country station, she
found that her boxes had not arrived. They might have gone on to the
next station; I waited with her while enquiries were telephoned down the
line. It was a mild spring evening: side by side we sat in silence on a
wooden bench facing the platform; the bustle caused by the passing train
ebbed away; the dusk deepened, and one by one the stars twinkled out in
the serene sky.

'How peaceful it is!' I remarked at last. 'Is there not a certain
charm,' I went on after another pause, 'in waiting like this in silence
under the stars? It's after all a little adventure, is it not? a moment
with a certain mood and colour and atmosphere of its own.'

'I often think,' I once more mused aloud, 'I often think that it is in
moments like this of waiting and hushed suspense, that one tastes most
fully the savour of life, the uncertainty, and yet the sweetness of our
frail mortal condition, so capable of fear and hope, so dependent on a
million accidents.'

'Luggage!' I said, after another silence, 'is it not after all absurd
that minds which contemplate the universe should cart about with them
brushes and boots and drapery in leather boxes? Suppose all this paltry
junk,' I said, giving my suitcase, which stood near me, a disdainful
poke with my umbrella, 'suppose it all disappears, what after all does
it matter?'

At last she spoke. 'But it's not your luggage,' she said, 'but mine
which is lost.'

THE WRONG WORD

We were talking of the Universe at tea, and one of our company declared
that he at least was entirely without illusions. He had long since faced
the fact that Nature had no sympathy with our hopes and fears, and was
completely indifferent to our fate. The Universe, he said, was a great
meaningless machine; Man, with his reason and moral judgments, was the
product of blind forces, which, though they would so soon destroy him,
he must yet despise. To endure this tragedy of our fate with passionless
despair, never to wince or bow the head, to confront the hostile powers
with high disdain, to fix with eyes of scorn the Gorgon face of Destiny,
to stand on the brink of the abyss, hurling defiance at the icy
stars--this, he said, was his attitude, and it produced, as you can
imagine, a very powerful impression on the company. As for me, I was
completely carried away by my enthusiasm.

'By Jove, that is a