him one morning in the
library reading. He sprang up to meet the Divine, exclaiming, 'Ah, dear
doctor, I am very glad to see you. Have you any special favourite among
the Odes of Pindar?'

The doctor thought this an odd question for the first salutation. He
had expected that the first inquiry would have been for the fair
convalescent. He divined that the evasion of this subject was the result
of an inward struggle. He thought it would be best to fall in with the
mood of the questioner, and said, 'Charles Fox's favourite is said to
have been the second Olympic; I am not sure that there is, or can be,
anything better. What say you?'

_Mr. Falconer._ It may be that something in it touches a peculiar tone
of feeling; but to me there is nothing like the ninth Pythian.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ I can understand your fancy for that ode. You
see an image of ideal beauty in the nymph Cyrene.

_Mr. Falconer._ 'Hidden are the keys of wise persuasion of sacred
endearments,'{1} seems a strange phrase in English; but in Greek the
words invest a charming sentiment with singular grace. Fit words to
words as closely as we may, the difference of the mind which utters them
fails to reproduce the true semblance of the thought. The difference
of the effect produced, as in this instance, by exactly corresponding
words, can only be traced to the essential difference of the Greek and
the English mind.

1 (Greek passage)--Pindar?

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ And indeed, as with the words, so with the
image. We are charmed by Cyrene wrestling with the lion; but we should
scarcely choose an English girl so doing as the type of ideal beauty.

_Mr. Falconer._ We must draw the image of Cyrene, not from an English
girl but from a Greek statue.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Unless a man is in love, and then to him
all images of beauty take something of the form and features of his
mistress.

_Mr. Falconer._ That is to say, a man in love sees everything through a
false medium. It must be a dreadful calamity to be in love.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Surely not when all goes well with it.

_Mr. Falconer._ To me it would be the worst of all mischances.

_The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Every man must be subject to Love once in his
life. It is useless to contend with him. 'Love,' says Sophocles,
'is unconquered in battle, and keeps his watch in the soft cheeks of
beauty.'{1}

_Mr. Falconer._ I am afraid, doctor, the Morgana to whom you have
introduced me