صور الصفحة
PDF
النشر الإلكتروني

human Insight, Cultivation, in one sort or other. As for the Snake, I know not well what name to call it by; nay perhaps, in our scanty vocabularies, there is no name for it, though

Soul; now it is Institutions, Historical Events, now Doctrines, Philosophic Truths: thus are all manner of entities and quiddities and ghosts of defunct bodies' set flying; you have the whole Four Elements chaotico-creatively that does not hinder its being a thing, genuine jumbled together, and spirits enough imbody-enough. Meditation; Intellectual Research; ing themselves, and roguishly peering through, Understanding; in the most general acceptain the confused wild-working mass!" tion, Thought: all these come near designat

"So much, however, I will stake my whole ing it; none actually designates it. Were I money capital and literary character upon: bound, under legal penalties, to give the creathat here is a wonderful EMBLEM OF UNIVER-ture a name, I should say THOUGHT rather than SAL HISTORY set forth; more especially a another. wonderful Emblem of this our wonderful and "But what if our Snake, and so much else wofulAge of Transition;' what men have that works here beside it, were neither a quali been and done, what they are to be and do, is, ty, nor a reality, nor a state, nor an action, in in this Tale of Tales, poetico-prophetically any kind; none of these things purely and typified, in such a style of grandeur and celes-alone, but something intermediate and partaktial brilliancy and life, as the Western Imagi- ing of them all! In which case, to name it, in nation has not elsewhere reached; as only the vulgar speech, were a still more frantic atOriental Imagination, and in the primeval ages, tempt: it is unnameable in speech; and rewas wont to attempt."-Here surely is good mains only the allegorical Figure known in wine, with a big bush! Study the Tale of this Tale by the name of Snake, and more or Tales, O reader: even in the bald version of less resembling and shadowing forth somewhat D. T., there will be meaning found. He con- that speech has named, or might name. It is tinues in this triumphant style: this heterogeneity of nature, pitching your solidest Predicables heels over head, throwing you half a dozen Categories into the melting pot at once,—that so unspeakably bewilders a Commentator, and for moinents is nigh reduc ing him to delirium saltans.

"Can any mortal head (not a wigblock) doubt that the Giant of this Poem means SUPERSTITION? That the Ferryman has something to do with the PRIESTHOOD; his Hut with the CHURCH?

66

Again, might it not be presumed that the River were TIME; and that it flowed (as Time does) between two worlds? Call the world, or country on this side, where the fair Lily dwells, the world of SUPERNATURALISM; the country on that side, NATURALISM, the working week-day world where we all dwell and toil: whosoever or whatsoever introduces itself, and appears in the firm earth of human business, or as we well say, comes into Existence, must proceed from Lily's supernatural country; whatsoever of a material sort deceases and disappears might be expected to go thither. Let the reader consider this, and note what comes of it.

"The Will-o'-wisps, that laugh and jig, and compliment the ladies, and eat gold and shake it from them, I for my own share take the liberty of viewing as some shadow of ELEGANT CULTURE, or modern Fine Literature; which by and by became so skeptical-destructive; and did, as French Philosophy, eat Gold (or Wisdom) enough, and shake it out again. In which sense, their coming (into Existence) by the old Ferryman's (by the Priesthood's) assistance, and almost oversetting his boat, and then laughing at him, and trying to skip off from him, yet being obliged to stop till they had satisfied him: all this, to the discerning eye, has its significance.

"To get a free solid communication established over this same wondrous River of Time, so that the Natural and Supernatural may stand in friendliest neighbourhood and union, forms the grand action of this Phantasmagoric Poem: is not such also, let me ask thee, the grand action and summary of Universal History; the one problem of Human Culture; the thing which Mankind (once the three daily meals of victual were moderately secured) has ever striven after, and must ever strive after?-Alas! we observe very soon, matters stand on a most distressful footing, in this of Natural and Supernatural: there are three conveyances across, and all bad, all in-der-working, finally victorious;-as, in strict cidental, temporary, uncertain: the worst of reality, it is ever (if we will study it) the Pothe three, one would think, and the worst con-etic Vision that lies at the bottom of all other ceivable, were the Giant's Shadow, at sunrise Knowledge or Action; and is the source and and sunset; the best that Snake-bridge at noon, creative fountain of whatsoever mortal ken or yet still only a bad best. Consider again our can, and mystically and miraculously guides trustless, rotten, revolutionary age of transi- them forward whither they are to go. Be the tion,' and see whether this too does not fit it! Man with the Lamp, then, named REASON, "If you ask next, Who these other strange mankind's noblest inspired Insight and Light; characters are, the Snake, the Will-o'-Wisps, whereof all the other lights are but effluences, the Man with the Lamp? I will answer, in and more or less discoloured emanations gereral and afar off, that Light must signify

"As to the Man with the Lamp, in him and his gold-giving, jewel-forming, and otherwise so miraculous Light, which 'casts no shadow,' and 'cannot illuminate what is wholly otherwise in darkness,'-I see what you might name the celestial REASON of Man, (Reason as contrasted with Understanding, and superordinated to it,) the purest essence of his seeing Faculty; which manifests itself as the Spirit of Poetry, of Prophecy, or whatever else of highest in the intellectual sort man's mind can do. We behold this respectable, venerable Lamp-bearer everywhere present in time of need; directing, accomplishing, working, won

"His Wife, poor old woman, we shall call

PRACTICAL ENDEAVOUR ; which as married to | diction with itself: what good were it to know Reason, to spiritual Vision and Belief, first farther in what direction the rift (as our Poet makes up man's being here below. Unhappi- here pleased to represent it) had taken effect! ly the ancient couple, we find, are but in a de- Fancy, however, that these two HALVES of cayed condition: the better emblems are they Man's Soul and Being are separated, in pain of Reason and Endeavour in this our "transi- and enchanted obstruction, from one another. tionary age!" The Man presents himself in The, better, fairer Half sits in the Supernatural the garb of a peasant, the Woman has grown country, deadening and killing; alas, not perold, garrulous, querulous; both live neverthe-mitted to come across into the Natural visible country, and there make all blessed and alive! The rugged stronger Half, in such separation, is quite lamed and paralytic; wretched, forlorn, in a state of death-life, must he wander to and fro over the River of Time; all that is dear and essential to him, imprisoned there; which if he look at he grows still weaker, which if he touch, he dies. Poor Prince! And let the judicious reader, who had read the Era he lives in, or even spelt the alphabet thereof, say whether, with the paralytic-lamed Activity of man (hampered and hamstrung'in a transitionary age' of Skepticism, Methodism; atheistic Sarcasm, hysteric Orgasm; brazen-faced Delusion, Puffery, Hypocrisy, Stupidity, and the whole Bill and nothing but the Bill,) it is not even so? Must not poor man's Activity (like this poor Prince) wander from Natural to Supernatural, and back again, disconsolate enough; unable to do any thing, except merely wring its hands, and, whimpering and blubbering, lamentably inquire: What shall I do?

Jess in their ancient cottage,' better or worse, the roof-tree of which still holds together over them. And then those mischievous Will-o'wisps, who pay the old lady such court, and eat all the old gold (all that was wise and beautiful and desirable) off her walls; and show the old stones, quite ugly and bare, as they had not been for ages! Besides, they have killed poor Mops, the plaything, and joy and fondling of the house; as has not that same Elegant Culture, or French Philosophy done, wheresoever it has arrived? Mark, notwithstanding, how the Man with the Lamp puts it all right again, reconciles every thing, and makes the finest business out of what seemed the worst. "With regard to the Four Kings, and the Temple which lies fashioned under ground, please to consider all this as the Future lying prepared and certain under the Present: you observe, not only inspired Reason (or the Man with the Lamp) but scientific Thought (or the Snake) can discern it lying there: nevertheless much work must be done, innumerable difficulties fronted and conquered, before it can rise out of the depths, (of the Future,) and realize itself as the actual worshipping-place of man, and 'the most frequented Temple in the whole Earth.'

"As for the fair Lily and her ambulatory necessitous Prince, these are objects that I shall admit myself incapable of naming; yet nowise admit myself incapable of attaching meaning to. Consider them as the two disjointed Halves of this singular Dualistic Being of ours; a Being, I must say, the most utterly Dualistic; fashioned, from the very heart of it, out of Positive and Negative, (what we happily call Light and Darkness, necessity and Freewill, Good and Evil, and the like;) everywhere out of two mortally opposed things, which yet must be united in vital love, if there is to be any Life;-a being, I repeat, Dualistic beyond expressing; which will split in two, strike it in any direction, on any of its six sides; and does of itself split in two, (into Contradiction,) every hour of the day, were not Life perpetually there, perpetually knitting it together again! But as to that cutting up, and parcelling, and labelling of the indivisible Human Soul into what are called "Faculties," it is a thing I have from of old eschewed, and even hated. A thing which you must sometimes do, (or you cannot speak ;) yet which is never done without Error hovering near you; for most part, without her pouncing on you, and quite blindfolding you.

"But Courage! Courage! The Temple is built, (though under-ground;) the Bridge shall arch itself, the divided Two shall clasp each other as flames do, rushing into one; and all that ends well shall be well! Mark only how, in this imitable Poem, worthy an Olympic crown, or prize of the Literary Society, it is represented as proceeding!"

So far D. T.; a commentator who at least does not want confidence in himself; whom we shall only caution not to be too confident; to remember always that, as he once says, "Phantasmagory is not Allegory;" that much exists, under our very noses, which has no "name," and can get none; that the "River of Time" and so forth may be one thing, or more than one, or none; that, in short, there is risk of the too valiant D. T.'s bamboozling himself in this matter; being led from puddle to pool; and so left standing at last, like a foolish mystified nose-of-wax, wondering where the devil he is.

To the simpler sort of readers we shall also extend an advice; or be it rather, proffer a petition. It is to fancy themselves, for the time being, delivered altogether from D. T.'s company; and to read this Mährchen, as if it were there only for its owi. sake, and those tag-rag Notes of his were so much blank paper. Let the simpler sort of readers say now how they like it! If unhappily on looking back, some spasm of "the malady of thought," begin afflicting them, let such Notes be then inquired of, but not till then, and then also with distrust. Pin thy faith to no man's sleeve; hast thou not two eyes of thy own'

"Let not us, therefore, in looking at Lily and her Prince be tempted to that practice: why should we try to name them at all? Enough if we do feel that man's whole Being is riven The Commentator himself cannot, it is to be asunder every way (in this 'transitionary age,') hoped, imagine that he has exhausted the matand yawning in hostile, irreconcilable contra- ter. To decipher and represent the genesis of

this extraordinary Production, and what was the Author's state of mind in producing it; to see, with dim, common eyes, what the great Goethe, with inspired poetic eyes, then saw; and paint to oneself the thick-coming shapes and many-coloured splendours of his "Prospero's Grotto," at that hour: this were 'what we could call complete criticism and commentary; what D. T. is far from having done, and ought to fall on his face, and confess that he can never do.

We shall conclude with remarking two things. First, that D. T. does not appear to have set eye on any of those German Commentaries on this Tale of Tales; or even to have heard, credently, that such exist: an omission, in a professed Translator, which he himself may answer for. Secondly, that with all his boundless preluding, he has forgot to insert the Author's own prelude; the passage, namely, by which this Mährchen is especially ushered in, and the key-note of it struck by the Composer himself, and the tone of the whole prescribed! This latter altogether glaring omission we now charitably supply; and then let D. T., and his illustrious Original, and the Readers of this Magazine take it among them. Turn to the latter part of the Deutschen Ausgewanderten (page 208, Volume XV. of the last Edition of Goethe's Werke;) it is written there as we render it:

666

'The Imagination,' said Karl, is a fine faculty; yet I like not when she works on what has actually happened: the airy forms she creates are welcome as things of their own kind; but uniting with Truth she produces oftenest nothing but monsters; and seems to me, in such cases, to fly into direct variance with Reason and Common sense. She ought, you might say, to hang upon no object, to force no object on us; she must, if she is to produce Works of Art, play like a sort of music upon us; move us within ourselves, and this in such a way that we forget there is any thing without us producing the movement.'

"Proceed no farther,' said the old man, 'with your conditionings! To enjoy a product of Imagination this also is a condition, that we enjoy it unconditionally; for Imagination herself cannot condition and bargain; she must wait what shall be given her. She forms no plans, prescribes for herself no path; but is borue and guided by her own pinions; and hovering hither and thither, marks out the strangest courses; which in their direction are ever altering. Let me but, on my evening walk, call up again to life within me, some wondrous figures I was wont to play with in earlier years. This night I promise you a Tale, which shall remind you of Nothing and of All.'" And now for it!

O. Y.

THE TALE.

In his little Hut, by the great River, which a heavy rain had swoln to overflowing, lay the ancient Ferryman, asleep, wearied by the toil of the day. In the middle of the night, loud

In the middle of the night truly! In the middle of the Dark Ages, when what with Mohammedan Conquests,

voices awoke him; he heard that it was travellers wishing to be carried over.

Stepping out, he saw two large Will-o'-wisps, hovering to and fro on his boat, which lay moored; they said, they were in violent haste, and should have been already on the other side. The old Ferryman made no loitering; pushed off, and steered with his usual skill obliquely through the stream: while the two strangers whiffled and hissed together, in an unknown very rapid tongue, and every now and then broke out in loud laughter, hopping about, at one time on the gunwale and the seats, at another on the bottom of the boat.

"The boat is heeling!" cried the old man "if you don't be quiet, it will overset; be seated, gentlemen of the wisp!"

At this advice they burst into a fit of laughter, mocked the old man, and were more unquiet than ever. He bore their mischief with patience, and soon reached the farther shore.

66

Here is for your labour!" cried the travellers, and as they shook themselves, a heap of glit tering gold-pieces jingled down into the wet boat. "For Heaven's sake, what are you about?" cried the old man; "you will ruin me for ever! Had a single piece of gold got into the water, the stream which cannot suffer gold, would have risen in horrid waves, and swallowed both my skiff and me; and who knows how it might have fared with you in that case: here, take back your gold."

"We can take nothing back, which we have once shaken from us," said the Lights.

"Then you give me the trouble," said the old man, stooping down, and gathering the pieces into his cap, "of raking them together, and carrying them ashore, and burying them."

The Lights had leaped from the boat, but the old man cried: "Stay; where is my fare?"

"If you take no gold, you may work for nothing," cried the Will-o'-wisps.-"You must know that I am only to be paid with fruits of the earth."-" Fruits of the earth? we despise them and have never tasted them."-" And yet I cannot let you go, till you have promised that you will deliver me three Cabbages, three Artichokes, and three large Onions."

The Lights were making off with jests; but they felt themselves, in some inexplicable manner, fastened to the ground: it was the unpleasantest feeling they had ever had. They engaged to pay him his demand as soon as possible: he let them go, and pushed away. He was gone a good distance, when they called to him: "Old Man! Holla, old man! the main point is forgotten!"* He was off, however, and did not hear them. He had fallen quietly down that side of the River, where, in a rocky spot, which the water never reached, he meant to bury the pernicious gold. Here, between two high crags, he found a monstrous chasm; shook

what with Christian Crusadings, Destructions of Constantinople, Discoveries of America, the TIME-RIVER

was indeed swoln to overflowing; and the Ines Fatur haste to get over into Existence, being much wanted; (of Elegant Culture, of Literature,) must needs feel in and apply to the Priesthood, (respectable old Ferryman, roused out of sleep thereby) who willingly introduced them, mischievous, ungrateful imps as they were.-D. T.

What could this be? To ask whither their next road lay? It was useless to ask there: the respectable old Priesthood "did not hear them."-D. T.

the metal into it, and steered back to his cottage.

Now, in this chasm, lay the fair green Snake, who was roused from her sleep by the gold coming chinking down. No sooner did she fix her eye on the glittering coins, than she ate them all up, with the greatest relish, on the spot; and carefully picked out such pieces as were scattered in the chinks of the rock.

Scarcely had she swallowed them, when, with extreme delight, she began to feel the metal melting in her inwards, and spreading all over her body; and soon, to her lively joy, she observed that she was grown transparent and luminous. Long ago she had been told that this was possible; but now being doubtful whether such a light could last, her curiosity and the desire to be secure against the future, drove her from her cell, that she might see who it was that had shaken in this precious metal. She found no one. The more delightful was it to admire her own appearance, and her graceful brightness, as she crawled along through roots and bushes, and spread out her light among the grass. Every leaf seemed of emerald, every flower was dyed with new glory. It was in vain that she crossed the solitary thickets; but her hopes rose high, when, on reaching the open country, she perceived from afar a brilliancy resembling her own. "Shall I find my like at last, then?" cried she, and hastened to the spot. The toil of crawling through bog and reeds gave her little thought; for though she liked best to live in dry grassy spots of the mountains, among the clefts of rocks, and for most part fed on spicy herbs, and slaked her thirst with mild dew and fresh spring water, yet for the sake of this dear gold, and in the hope of this glorious light, she would have undertaken any thing you could propose to her.

At last, with much fatigue, she reached a wet rushy spot in the swamp, where our two Willo'-wisps were frisking to and fro. She shoved herself along to them; saluted them, was happy to meet such pleasant gentlemen related to her family. The Lights glided towards her, skipped up over her, and laughed in their fashion. "Lady Cousin," said they, "you are of the horizontal line, yet what of that? It is true we are related only by the look; for observe you," here both the Flames, compressing their whole breadth, made themselves as high and peaked as possible, "how prettily this taper length beseems us gentlemen of the vertical line! Take it not amiss of us, good Lady; what family can boast of such a thing? Since there ever was a Jack-o'-lanthorn in the world, no one of them has either sat or lain."

The Snake felt exceedingly uncomfortable in the company of these relations; for let her hold her head as high as possible, she found that she must bend it to the earth again, would she stir from the spot; and if in the dark

THOUGHT, Understanding, roused from her long sleep by the first produce of modern Belles Lettres; which she eagerly devours.-D. T.

+True enough: Thought cannot fly and dance, as your wildfire of Belles Lettres may; she proceeds in the systole-diastole, up-and-down method; and must ever "bend her head to the earth again," (in the way of Baconian Experiment,) or she will not sti from the spot.D. T.

thicket she had been extremely satisfied with her appearance, her splendour in the presence of these cousins seemed to lesson every moment, nay she was afraid that at last it would go out entirely.

In this embarrassment she hastily asked: if the gentlemen could not inform her, whence the glittering gold came, that had fallen a short while ago into the cleft of the rock; her own opinion was, that it had been a golden shower, and had trickled down direct from the sky. The Will-o'-wisps laughed, and shook themselves, and a multitude of gold-pieces came clinking down about them. The snake pushed nimbly forward to eat the coin. "Much good may it do you, Mistress," said the dapper gentlemen: "we can help you to a little more." They shook themselves again several times with great quickness, so that the Snake could scarcely gulp the precious victuals fast enough. Her splendour visibly began increas ing; she was really shining beautifully, while the Lights had in the mean time grown rather lean and short of stature, without however in the smallest losing their good-humour.

"I am obliged to you for ever,” said the Snake, having got her wind again after the repast; "ask of me what you will; all that I can I will do."

[blocks in formation]

"It would be useless," said the Snake; "for if you found him ready on the bank, he would not take you in; he can carry any one to this side, none to yonder."

"Here is a pretty kettle of fish!" cried the Lights: "are there no other means of getting through the water?"—"There are other means, but not at this moment. I myself could take you over, gentlemen, but not till noon."-" That is an hour we do not like to travel in."-" Then you may go across in the evening, on the great Giant's shadow."-"How is that?"-"The great Giant lives not far from this; with his body he has no power; his hands cannot lift a straw, his shoulders could not bear a fagot of twigs; but with his shadow he has power over much, may all. At sunrise and sunset therefore he is strongest; so at evening you merely put yourself upon the back of his shadow, the Giant walks softly to the bank, and the shadow carries you across the water. But if you please, about the hour of noon, to be in waiting at that corner of the wood, where the bushes overhang the bank, I myself will take you over and present you to the fair Lily: or on the other hand, if you dislike the noontide, you have just to go at nightfall to that bend of the rocks, and pay a visit to

Is not SUPERSTITION strongest when the sun is low 1 with body, powerless; with shadow, omnipotent 1-D. T.

the Giant; he will certainly receive you like | about to speak, when a vein which ran dimlya gentleman." coloured over the marble wall, on a sudden became bright, and diffused a cheerful light throughout the whole Temple. By this brilliancy the Snake perceived a third King, made of Brass, and sitting mighty in shape, leaning on his club, adorned with a laurel garland, and more like a rock than a man. She was looking for the fourth, which was. standing at the greatest distance from her; but the wall opened, while the glittering vein started and split, as lightning does, and disappeared.

A Man of middle stature, entering through the cleft, attracted the attention of the Snake. He was dressed like a peasant, and carried in his hand a little Lamp, on whose still flame you liked to look, and which in a strange manner, without casting any shadow, enlightened the whole dome.*

With a slight bow, the flames went off; and the Snake at bottom was not discontented to get rid of them; partly that she might enjoy the brightness of her own light, partly satisfy a curiosity with which, for a long time, she had been agitated in a singular way.

In the chasm, where she often crawled hither and thither, she had made a strange discovery. For although in creeping up and down this abyss, she had never had a ray of light, she could well enough discriminate the objects in it, by her sense of touch. Generally she met with nothing but irregular productions of nature; at one time she would wind between the teeth of large crystals, at another she would feel the barbs and hairs of native silver, and now and then carry out with her to the light some straggling jewels. But to her no, small wonder, in a rock which was closed on every side, she had come on certain objects which betrayed the shaping hand of man: smooth walls on which she could not climb, sharp regular corners, well-formed pillars; and what seemed strangest of all, human figures which she had entwined more than once, and which appeared to her to be of brass, or of the finest polished marble. All these experiences she now wished to combine by the sense of sight, thereby to confirm what as yet she only guessed. She believed she could illuminate the whole of that subterranean vault by her own light; and hoped to get acquainted with these curious things at once. She hastened back; and soon found, by the usual way, the cleft by which she used to penetrate the Sanctuary.

On reaching the place, she gazed around with eager curiosity; and though her shining could not enlighten every object in the rotunda, yet those nearest her were plain enough. With astonishment and reverence she looked up into a glancing niche, where the image of an august King stood formed of pure Gold. In size the figure was beyond the stature of man, but by its shape it seemed the likeness of a little rather than a tall person. His handsome body was encircled with an unadorned mantle; and a garland of oak bound his hair together. No sooner had the Snake beheld this reverend figure, than the King began to speak, and asked: “Whence comest thou?"-"From the chasms where the gold dwells," said the Snake. "What is grander than gold?" inquired the King.-"Light," replied the Snake. "What is more refreshing than light?" said he.Speech," answered she.

46

During this conversation she had squinted to a side, and in the nearest niche perceived another glorious image. It was a Silver King in a sitting posture; his shape was long and rather languid; he was covered with a decorated robe; crown, girdle, and sceptre were adorned with precious stones: the cheerfulness of pride was in his countenance; he seemed

• Primitive employments, and attainments, of Thought, in this dark den whither it is sent to dwell. For many long ages, it discerns “nothing but irregular productions of Nature;" having indeed to pick material bed and board out of Nature and her irregular productions.- T.

"Why comest thou, since we have light?" said the golden King." You know that I may not enlighten what is dark."-“ Will _ my Kingdom end?" said the silver King." Late or never," said the old Man.

With a stronger voice the brazen King began to ask: "When shall I arise?""Soon," replied the Man.-" With whom shall I combine ?" said the King." With thy elder brothers," said the Man.-"What will the youngest do?" inquired the King.—“ He will sit down," replied the Man.

"I am not tired," cried the fourth King, with a rough faltering voice.‡

While this speech was going on, the Snake had glided softly round the temple, viewing every thing; she was now looking at the fourth King close by him. He stood leaning on a pillar; his considerable form was heavy rather than beautiful. But what metal it was made of could not be determined. Closely inspected, it seemed a mixture of the three metals which its brothers had been formed of. But in the founding, these materials did not seem to have combined together fully; gold and silver veins rau irregularly through a brazen mass, and gave the figure an unpleasant aspect.

Meanwhile the gold King was asking of the Man, "How many secrets knowest thou?""Three," replied the Man.-"Which is the most important?" said the silver King."The open one," replied the other.§-" Wilt thou open it to us also?" said the brass King.— "When I know the fourth," replied the Man."What care I?" grumbled the composite King, in an under tone.

"I know the fourth," said the Snake; approached the old Man, and hissed somewhat in his ear. "The time is at hand!" cried the old Man, with a strong voice. The temple re

*Poetic Light, celestial Reason !-D. T. Kings: much annotation from D. T. is here necessarily Let the reader, in one word, attend well to these four swept out.-O. Y.

What is wholly dark. Understanding precedes Reason: modern Science is come: modern Poesy is still

but coming.-in Goethe, (and whom else?)—D. T.

Consider these Kings as Eras of the World's History; co, not as Eras, but as Principles which jointly or severally rule Eras. Alas, poor we, in this chaotic softsoldered "transitionary age," are so unfortunate as to live under the Fourth King.-D. T.

Reader, hast thou any glimpse of the " open secret ?" I fear, not.-D. T.-Writer, art thou a goose? I fear, yes.-O. Y.

« السابقةمتابعة »