st no Past, but thou hast a Future. Thou didst say: 'Bury me in
Westminster, never! where the mob surges, cursed with idle curiosity to
see the graves of kings and nobodies? No! Take me back to rugged Scotland
and lay my tired form to rest by the side of an honest man--my father.'

"Thou didst refuse the Knighthood offered thee by royalty, saying, 'I am
not the founder of the house of Carlyle and I have no sons to be
pauperized by a title,' True, thou didst leave no sons after the flesh to
mourn thy loss, nor fair daughters to bedeck thy grave with garlands, but
thou didst reproduce thyself in thought, and on the minds of men thou
didst leave thy impress. And thy ten thousand sons will keep thy memory
green so long as men shall work, and toil, and strive, and hope."

The wind still howled. I looked out and saw watery clouds scudding
athwart the face of the murky sky. The shutters banged, and shut me in
the dark. I made haste to find the door, reached the stairway--slid down
the banisters to where Mrs. Brown was waiting for me at the threshold.

We locked the door. She went across to her little bakeshop and I stopped
a passing policeman to ask the way to Westminster. He told me.

"Did you visit Carlyle's 'ouse?" he asked.

"Yes."

"With old Mrs. Brown?"

"Yes, she waited for me in the doorway--she had the rheumatism so she
could not climb the stairs."

"Rheumatism? Huh!--you couldn't 'ire 'er to go inside. Why, don't you
know? They say the 'ouse is 'aunted!"

JOHN RUSKIN

Put roses in their hair, put precious stones on their breasts;
see that they are clothed in purple and scarlet, with other
delights; that they also learn to read the gilded heraldry of the
sky; and upon the earth be taught not only the labors of it but
the loveliness.

--_Deucalion_

[Illustration: JOHN RUSKIN]

At Windermere, a good friend, told me that I must abandon
all hope of seeing Mr. Ruskin; for I had no special business with him, no
letters of introduction, and then the fact that I am an American made it
final. Americans in England are supposed to pick flowers in private
gardens, cut their names on trees, laugh boisterously at trifles, and
often to make invidious comparisons. Very properly, Mr. Ruskin does not
admire these things.

Then Mr. Ruskin is a very busy man. Occasionally he issues a printed
manifesto to his friends requesting them to give him peace. A copy of one
such circular was sho