he subject was ably and eloquently treated, that listener found
his ideas ranging at various angles to those of the speaker. It seemed
so characteristic of venerable manhood to dwell on old heroes whose
exploits impressed youthful fancy, so hard to canonize any person whom
we had met and understood.

In commenting upon great deeds of famous men, the nearest approach to
present times was the preacher's reference to George Washington.

During the week Oswald had been reading about conspicuous actors in the
American Civil War, and still more recent history of the Republic.
Martial dreams had been renewed. While those ancient notables were being
paraded before that congregation, others more recent posed upon Oswald's
"boards."

Tall, lank ghost, thy patient, kindly brow marred by assassin's lead!
Mighty warrior shade, bearing upon thy tense, heroic face traces of
Mount McGregor's pain! Thou from Atlanta march! Thou from Winchester
ride! Thou from Mentor Mecca, thy glazing orbs lighting with boyhood's
longing for ocean's trackless wave! And ye mighty hosts of marching and
countermarching nineteenth-century worthies, witness bear to worth of
your most thrilling times!

Still that sermon was very well prepared, and doubtless met the
preacher's critical approval.

It ought not to be expected that this able divine gauge his expressed
thoughts by fancies of an erratic youth under abnormal, emotional
pressure.

Gazing at some of those richly attired communicants as in elegant
carriages they were driven homeward, Oswald wondered if it were easy or
hard for such to "overcome the world."

Though shunning the forming of any intimate friendships, Oswald longed
for that sympathy which comes from human contact. Watching the exchanges
of mutual good-will between many, he envied their freedom from his own
restraints. At times even effusive flutterings of social butterflies
seemed rational compared with such hampering reserve and forced
discretion.

Oswald was an omnivorous reader, but never could restrain his interest
to set pace of the author's art. In this haste many little touches of
sentiment were overlooked, but strong points were quickly grasped and
held by a tenacious memory. His waking hours were occupied mostly in
sight-seeing and in this rapid process of book and paper assimilation.

As in his perusal of American military exploits, which revived boyish
fancies tempered by maturing thought, so sentiments appealing to la