radius. On the other hand, when
we find a portion of an arc outside of our own, we say it _intersects_
ours, but are very slow to confess or to see that it _circumscribes_
it. Every now and then a man's mind is stretched by a new idea or
sensation, and never shrinks back to its former dimensions. After
looking at the Alps, I felt that my mind had been stretched beyond the
limits of its elasticity, and fitted so loosely on my old ideas of
space that I had to spread these to fit it.

----If I thought I should ever see the Alps!--said the schoolmistress.

Perhaps you will, some time or other,--I said.

It is not very likely,--she answered.--I have had one or two
opportunities, but I had rather be anything than governess in a rich
family.

Proud, too, you little soft-voiced woman! Well, I can't say I like you
any the worse for it. How long will schoolkeeping take to kill you? Is
it possible the poor thing works with her needle, too? I don't like
those marks on the side of her forefinger.

_Tableau_. Chamouni. Mont Blanc in full view. Figures in the
foreground; two of them standing apart; one of them a gentleman
of----oh,--ah,--yes! the other a lady in a white cashmere, leaning on
his shoulder.--The ingenuous reader will understand that this was an
internal, private, personal, subjective diorama, seen for one instant
on the background of my own consciousness, and abolished into black
non-entity by the first question which recalled me to actual life, as
suddenly as if one of those iron shop-blinds (which I always pass at
dusk with a shiver, expecting to stumble over some poor but honest
shop-boy's head, just taken off by its sudden and unexpected descent,
and left outside upon the sidewalk) had come down "by the run."

----Should you like to hear what moderate wishes life brings one to at
last? I used to be very ambitious,--wasteful, extravagant, and
luxurious in all my fancies. Head too much in the "Arabian Nights."
Must have the lamp,--couldn't do without the ring. Exercise every
morning on the brazen horse. Plump down into castles as full of little
milk-white princesses as a nest is of young sparrows. All love me
dearly at once.--Charming idea of life, but too high-colored for the
reality. I have outgrown all this; my tastes have become exceedingly
primitive,--almost, perhaps, ascetic. We carry happiness into our
condition, but must not hope to find it there. I think you will be
willing to hear some lines which emb