is Tell.

* * *

The tyrannies of petty law hurt the authority of the State more with the
populace than all the severity of a Draconian code against great
offences. Petty laws may annoy but can never harm the rich, for they can
always evade them or purchase immunity; but petty laws for the poor are
as the horse-fly on the neck and on the eyelids of the horse.

* * *

It was in the month of April; outside the walls and on the banks of
Tiber, still swollen by the floods of winter, one could see the gold of
a million daffodils and the bright crimson and yellow of tulips in the
green corn. The scent of flowers and herbs came into the town and filled
its dusky and narrow ways; the boatmen had green branches fastened to
their masts; in the stillness of evening one heard the song of crickets,
and even a mosquito would come and blow his shrill little trumpet, and
one was willing to say to him "Welcome!" because on his little horn he
blew the glad news, "Summer is here!"

_HELD IN BONDAGE._

"A young man married is a man that's marred." That's a golden rule,
Arthur; take it to heart. Anne Hathaway, I have not a doubt, suggested
it; experience is the sole asbestos, only unluckily one seldom gets it
before one's hands are burnt irrevocably. Shakespeare took to wife the
ignorant, rosy-cheeked Warwickshire peasant girl at _eighteen_! Poor
fellow! I picture him, with all his untried powers, struggling like
new-born Hercules for strength and utterance, and the great germ of
poetry within him, tingeing all the common realities of life with its
rose hue; genius giving him power to see with god-like vision the
"fairies nestling in the cowslip chalices," and the golden gleam of
Cleopatra's sails; to feel the "spiced Indian air" by night, and the
wild working of kings' ambitious lust; to know by intuition, alike the
voices of nature unheard by common ears, and the fierce schemes and
passions of a world from which social position shut him out! I picture
him in his hot, imaginative youth, finding his first love in the
yeoman's daughter at Shottery, strolling with her by the Avon, making
her an "odorous chaplet of sweet summer buds," and dressing her up in
the fond array of a boy's poetic imaginings! Then--when he had married
her, he, with the passionate ideals of Juliets and Violas, Ophelias and
Hermiones in his brain and heart, must have awakened to find that the
voices so sweet to him w