the shrine of his favorite science,
is to my dull intellect as incomprehensible as the jargon of
metaphysics or the mysteries wrapped up in Pali cerements. Equations,
conic sections, differential calculus, constitute a skull and
cross-bones to which I allow as wide a berth as possible."

The weary dissatisfied expression of her large, luminous eyes, belied
the sneer in her voice and the curl of her thin lip, and it cost her
an effort to answer his next question.

"Will you tell me what rule you have adopted for the distribution of
your time, and the government of your life?"

"Yes, sir; you are heartily welcome to it: 'Yet a little slumber, a
little folding of the hands to sleep.' _Laissez nous faire_. Moreover,
Dr. Grey, if you will courteously lend me your ears, I will favor you
with a still more felicitous exposition of my invaluable organon."

Stooping suddenly, she raised from the floor a small volume which had
been concealed by her dress, and, as it opened at a page stained with
the juice of a purple convolvulus, she smiled defiantly, and read with
almost scornful emphasis,--

... "'Ah, why
Should life all labor be?
Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,
And in a little while our lips are dumb.
Let us alone. What is it that will last?
All things are taken from us, and become
Portions and parcels of the dreadful Past.
Let us alone. What pleasure can we have
To war with evil? Is there any peace
In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
All things have rest, and ripen towards the grave
In silence; ripen, fall, and cease:
Give us long rest or death; dark death or dreamful ease.'

There, Dr. Grey, you have my creed and method,--_Laissez nous
faire_."

With a degree of gravity that trenched on sternness, he bowed, and
answered,--

"So be it. I might insist that the closing lines of 'Ulysses' nobly
refute all the numbing heresy of the 'Lotos Eaters'--

... 'But something ere the end,
Some work of noble note may yet be done.
That which we are, we are:
One equal templer of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.'

But I would not rouse you from a lethargy, which, knowing it to be
fatal to all hopes of usefulness, you still deliberately prefer. Take
care, however, lest you bury the one original talent so deep that you
fail to unearth it when the Master demand