ing it: then you pass the rubber first down
one side of the blade edge and then down the other, beginning near
the handle and going on to the point and working quickly and hard.
When you first do this you will, perhaps, cut your hand; but it is
only at first that such an accident will happen to you.

To tell when the scythe is sharp enough this is the rule. First the
stone clangs and grinds against the iron harshly; then it rings
musically to one note; then, at last, it purrs as though the iron
and the stone were exactly suited. When you hear this, your scythe
is sharp enough; and I, when I heard it that June dawn, with
everything quite silent except the birds, let down the scythe and
bent myself to mow.

That is a piece of prose which is at once practical and beautiful. It
is sound advice to a man who would mow a meadow, and the soundness of it
is in no way hurt by the last sentence, which delights the ear and which
need not be read by the truly earnest.

It is a style which conveys emotion and it is also a style which can be
used perfectly to describe. We may refer, at least, as an example, to
the careful and exact account of the appearance and utility of the
Mediterranean lateen-sail which occurs at the beginning of _Esto
Perpetua_, a piece of writing which enchants the reader with its beauty
and its practical sense.

Consider, too, that light and graceful composition of a different
character, equally perfect in beauty, the dialogue _On the Departure of
a Guest_, in the book called _On Nothing and Kindred Subjects_. Youth
leaves the house of his Host and apologizes for removing certain
property of his, which the Host may have thought, from its long
continuance in the house, to have been his very own: included in this
property are carelessness and the love of women. But, says Youth, he is
permitted to make a gift to his Host of some things, among them the
clout Ambition, the perfume Pride, Health, and a trinket which is the
Sense of Form and Colour (most delicate and lovely of gifts!) And, he
continues, "there is something else ... no less a thing than a promise
... signed and sealed, to give you back all I take and more in
Immortality!" Then occurs this passage which closes the piece:

HOST. Oh! Youth.

YOUTH (_still feeling_). Do not thank me! It is my Master you
should thank. (_Frowns._) Dear me! I hope I have not lost it!
(_Feels in