What a great alteration would take place in the history of the world if it could be rewritten from the point of view of what the doctors describe as "the gouty acid diathesis." Bess of Hardwicke's marital troubles, which convulsed all England, and even drew Elizabeth and Burleigh into the turmoil, were due entirely to the unhappy Earl's gout, as no one can doubt after reading his letters. Charles V. was driven from his throne by it, and Napoleon's gout lost him the battle of Leipsic and set his feet in "slippery places." Henry VIII.'s shoes were not slashed without reason, and Pitt was lost to England when she most needed him by the same agent. These are but a few of the notorious examples, but how many wars, revolutions, massacres, had their origin in that same corroding oxydization of the spirit of man we will probably never fully determine. November 10. Abelard to Heloise. Dear Sister in Christ: God send you peace from Heaven! I would that to your restless heart His blessed peace was given, And that you found In contemplation of His love Balm for that wound That ever frets you sore. 'Twere meet you wore Much sack cloth, And with scourge and fasting drove This passion from your soul.... Christ's Bride thou art; Therefore give Him the whole. I charge thou keep'st back not any part Of His just due to spend upon a worm.... Nay, woman! would'st thou bring on me a curse For that I stand between thy soul and God?... Thy love for me is but a thing perverse. Cast it forth from thee, or a heavy rod May prove that God is still a jealous God. But that you are a woman, and infirm Of will and purpose, I should say Some bitter words to purge you of this sin! Natheless each day I painful penance do For that 'twas I who led you first astray-- (For which great sin may He my soul assoil!) And wrestle mightily each night in prayer That Christ may yet your stubborn heart subdue To His sweet will, and--the sharp fret and coil Of earth cast forth--He then may enter in To find a garnished chamber, and an altar fair.... --Nay, now, bethink you! Love like yours is grievous sin, And the time wasteth swift toward death. All love is but a breath Which clouds the glass that we see darkly through-- When you to Heaven shall win And there see face to face your risen Lord, Wilt know 'twas but the hot fume of a word Spake by a devil, dimmed your earthly glass.... In essence love is sin!-- Save only love of God. It is a gin, Set by the Evil One to snare the feet Of those who haste toward Heaven, By its false likeness to the spiritual love, And by it man is driven Down the steep slope to Hell. 'Tis thus when sanctioned by the Church; how then Of love like thine, which is accursed of men, And doubly cursed by God?... Last night in dreams I trod