et of great
eminence, and, with tears in his voice, he told me that he had never
been offered as much as a bracelet by any lady. Times have changed;
but for the person who still wishes to enter this decayed profession
there is still every opportunity, for poetry is only the art of cutting
sentences into equal lengths, and then getting these sentences printed
by a publisher. It is in the latter part of this formula that the real
art consists.

"There are a great many poets in Ireland, particularly in Dublin. In
an evening's walk one may meet at least a dozen of this peculiar
people. They may be known by the fact that they wear large, soft hats,
and that the breast-pockets of their coats have a more than noticeable
bulge, due to their habit of carrying therein the twenty-seven
masterpieces which they have just written. They are very ethereal
creatures, composed largely of soul and thirst. Soul is a far-away,
eerie thing, generally produced by eating fish."

The old gentleman borrowed the price of a tram home; but as he
instantly stood himself a drink with it, I was forced to relend him the
money when we got outside.

VIII

The old gentleman was in a very bad temper when I arrived. He had a
large glass of porter in his hand--a pint, in fact--and he was gazing
on this liquid with no great favour. I was a little surprised at his
choice of a drink, for I had never before known him care for any other
refreshment than spirits; but I did not like to make any reference to
the change. Looking thus, with great disgust, upon his pint, he began
to talk with some asperity about the English nation.

"The ways of Providence," said he, "are indeed inscrutable, else why
should there be such things in the world as lobsters, gutta-percha,
ballet-dancers, and Englishmen? These four objects, and some
others--notably water, tram-cars, and warts--I can find no necessity
for in nature; but there must be some reason for such, or else they
could not have arrived at the more or less mature stage of development
at which they are found.

"If we apply the canons of the Pragmatic philosophy to these objects we
will arrive at some conclusion which, although it may not justify their
existence, will give a hint as to their expediency. The question to be
put to any doubtful fact in nature is this--'What is your use?' and the
reality of the fact is in ratio to the degree of usefulness inhering in
it. Thus treated, most of the objects to which I ha