rn," he
says gravely. "I get to places where I feel I can go neither forward nor
back. The task is prodigious." And it is. But whom will it concern if
he succeeds in going forward? There are few who will read his book. The
translation is of more importance to the translator than to anyone else.
Yet the professor's _magnum opus_ confers a degree upon us all. Because
a standard is upheld and a man is willing and able to climb a Matterhorn
of thought, we can ourselves stride forward with better courage. The
work will be an output of heroism, and it will ennoble even those who
will not know of it.

I have another friend who ruined his life for love, so says the world
that you think steeped in the idolatry of love. A priest, who by a few
strokes was able to quell in America a strong and bitter movement, a
gifted orator, a man of giant powers, and who was won away at the age of
forty from his career by a mere girl. The girl planned nothing. She
found herself a force in his life almost despite herself. The mere fact
that she lived was enough to wrest this Titan from the arms of the
Church. He told me that she criticised him with the directness of a
simple nature, and that he came to understand her truths better than she
herself. I think she must have loved him at first, but she did not go
to him when all grew calm. I wish it could have been otherwise, and that
she could have brought him a woman's heart.

The priest, as the professor, is a hero. Both made great outputs.

There are few who can live like these. But because there are a few who
can love and work, the game is saved. And because there are a few of
these, we must ever quarrel with the many who are not like them.

"Give all to love;
Obey thy heart;
Friends, kindred, days,
Estate, good fame,
Plans, credit, and the Muse,--
Nothing refuse."

Does this really seem such poor philosophy to you? And when, Herbert,
will you marry?

DANE KEMPTON.

XXXII

FROM THE SAME TO THE SAME

STANFORD UNIVERSITY.
November 20, 19--.

Hester met me at the station, and we walked through the Arboretum to her
home on the campus. Then followed an evening together in the dormitory
parlour. I have just left her. Her face was tumultuously joyous when I
murmured my "At last!" Her tearful excitement was like Barbara's. You
did not tell me she is so young. You must have made her feel our
closeness, or she may have found a bit of my verse that