"And there the wooden-chuck doth tread;
While from the oak trees' tops
The red, red squirrel on thy head
The frequent acorn drops."
Abjuring, as I say, dinkiness in all its forms, we may still hope that
those cleanly and respectable spinsters, the Sister Arts, will continue
throughout the ages, rocking and drinking tea unterrified by the
million-tongued clamor in the back yard and below stairs, where thumb
and forefinger continue the question demanded by intellectual
exhaustion: "L'arr! Kesker say l'arr?"
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
CONTENTS
PAGE
I 1
II 12
III 21
IV 32
V 41
VI 48
VII 52
VIII 62
IX 73
X 85
XI 92
XII 100
XIII 104
XIV 111
XV 119
XVI 133
XVII 138
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS
FACING PAGE
"The little things," he continued,
delicately perforating the atmosphere
as though selecting a diatom.
_Frontispiece_
From a drawing by J. C. Leyendecker.
"Simplicity," breathed Guilford--"a single
blossom against a background of nothing at all"
22
From a drawing by J. C. Leyendecker.
He paused; his six tall and blooming daughters,
two and two behind him
54
From a drawing by Karl Anderson.
Aphrodite's slender fingers, barely resting
on the harp-strings, suddenly contracted
in a nervous tremor
106
From a drawing by Karl Anderson.
_Decorative drawings by Arthur C. Becker._
[Illustration]
IOLE
I
[Illustration]
"I ain't never knowed no one like him," continued the station-agent
reflectively. "He made us all look like monkeys, but he was good to us.
Ever see a ginuine poet, sir?"
"Years ago one was pointed out to me," replied Briggs.
"Was yours smooth shaved, with large, fat, white fingers?" inquired the
station-agent.
"If I remember correctly, he was thin," said Briggs, sitting down on his
suit-case and gazing apprehensively around at the landscape. There was
nothing to see but low, forbidding mountains, and forests, and a
railroad track curving into a tunnel.
The station-agent shoved his hairy hands into the pockets of his
overalls, jingled an unseen bunch of keys, and chewed a dry grass stem,
ruminating the while in an undertone:
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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