At the city gate I was compelled to hear again from the sentinel, "Where has the gentleman left his shadow?" And immediately again from some women, "Jesus Maria! the poor fellow has no shadow!" That began to irritate me, and I became especially careful not to walk in the sun. This could not, however, be accomplished everywhere; for instance, over the broad street I must next take--actually, as mischief would have it, at the very moment the boys came out of school. A cursed hunchbacked rogue--I see him yet--spied out instantly that I had no shadow. He proclaimed the fact with a loud outcry to the whole assembled literary street youth of the suburb, who began forthwith to criticize me and to pelt me with mud. "Decent people are accustomed to take their shadow with them when they go into the sunshine." To defend myself from them I threw whole handfuls of gold amongst them, and sprang into a hackney coach which some compassionate soul procured for me. As soon as I found myself alone in the rolling carriage, I began to weep bitterly. The presentiment must already have arisen in me that on earth, far as gold transcends merit and virtue in estimation, so much higher than gold itself is the shadow valued; and as I had earlier sacrificed wealth to conscience, I had now thrown away the shadow for mere gold. What in the world could and would become of me! FROM 'WOMAN'S LOVE AND LIFE' Thou ring upon my finger, My little golden ring, Against my fond bosom I press thee, And to thee my fond lips cling. My girlhood's dream was ended, Its peaceful, innocent grace, Forlorn I woke, and so lonely, In desolate infinite space. Thou ring upon my finger, Thou bringest me peace on earth, And thou my eyes hast opened To womanhood's infinite worth. I'll love and serve him forever, And live for him alone; I'll give him my life, but to find it Transfigured in his own. Thou ring upon my finger, My little golden ring, Against my fond bosom I press thee, And to thee my fond lips cling. Translation of Charles Harvey Genung. WILLIAM ELLERY CHANNING (1780-1842) [Illustration: WILLIAM E. CHANNING]