al plates and profusely annotated.

"This is my latest literary treasure, Erasmus Darwin's wonderful poem,
'The Temple of Nature,' recently published, and superior, I think, to
the 'Botanic Garden.' Let me read from the first canto, on the
Production of Life."

Arlington in "wise passivity" submitted to the infliction, and with
feigned pleasure followed the torturer's voice, delivering page after
page of solemn science in polished heroic couplets. At length, in a
lull between the lines on Imitation and those on Appetency, the young
man mustered courage to broach the subject nearest his heart, by
asking the irrelevant question, "You are acquainted, I dare say, with
the prominent families of Marietta; do you happen to know a gentleman
by the name of Hale? George Hale?"

Blennerhassett, keeping one eye on the Temple of Nature, answered
mechanically:

"Yes; George Hale is one of our best citizens. He is held in high
esteem, a man of some wealth and of great probity, but not college
bred. I am sure, Mr. Arlington, you will discern high poetical
qualities in this passage from the second canto, entitled Reproduction
of Life. Shall I read it aloud?"

"By all means, sir. I should be delighted to hear you read the entire
volume, but I regret that I have engagements up the river."

"I will detain you only a moment, Mr. Arlington. Perhaps you would
like to carry the book with you to read on your way back. This is the
passage I referred to:

'Now, young Desires, on purple pinions borne,
Mount the warm gale of Manhood's rising morn;
With softer fires through Virgin bosoms dart,
Flush the pale cheek, and goad the tender heart!'

Those are well-constructed verses, my dear sir--equal to Dryden. 'On
purple pinions borne,' sounds well. The alliteration is pleasing. Note
the effect, also, in the phrase 'Manhood's morn,' and the last line is
poetical,

'Flush the pale cheek, and goad the tender heart.'

Or this, suggesting how love and sympathy causes affinities which--

'Melt into Lymph or kindle into gas.'

There are those who contend that scientific truths cannot be stated
poetically; but here, I am sure, science and sentiment are at one. Am
I not right?"

"Doubtless your judgment is correct," assented Chester, uncertain
whether Blennerhassett was speaking in earnest or in irony. "I confess
I am not a literary student. Pardon the interruption and my
inquisitiveness, but am I correctly informed th