ot a poet, and I do not have much
reverence for verse-making merely as a craft."

THE MINSTREL.--"Neither have I."

KENELM.--"But I have a great reverence for poetry as a priesthood. I
felt that reverence for you when you sketched and talked priesthood
last evening, and placed in my heart--I hope forever while it beats--the
image of the child on the sunlit hill, high above the abodes of men,
tossing her flower-ball heavenward and with heavenward eyes."

The singer's cheek coloured high, and his lip quivered: he was very
sensitive to praise; most singers are.

Kenelm resumed, "I have been educated in the Realistic school, and with
realism I am discontented, because in realism as a school there is no
truth. It contains but a bit of truth, and that the coldest and hardest
bit of it, and he who utters a bit of truth and suppresses the rest of
it tells a lie."

THE MINSTREL (slyly).--"Does the critic who says to me, 'Sing of
beefsteak, because the appetite for food is a real want of daily life,
and don't sing of art and glory and love, because in daily life a man
may do without such ideas,'--tell a lie?"

KENELM.--"Thank you for that rebuke. I submit to it. No doubt I did tell
a lie,--that is, if I were quite in earnest in my recommendation, and if
not in earnest, why--"

THE MINSTREL.--"You belied yourself."

KENELM.--"Very likely. I set out on my travels to escape from shams, and
begin to discover that I am a sham _par excellence_. But I suddenly
come across you, as a boy dulled by his syntax and his vulgar fractions
suddenly comes across a pleasant poem or a picture-book, and feels his
wits brighten up. I owe you much: you have done me a world of good."

"I cannot guess how."

"Possibly not, but you have shown me how the realism of Nature herself
takes colour and life and soul when seen on the ideal or poetic side
of it. It is not exactly the words that you say or sing that do me the
good, but they awaken within me new trains of thought, which I seek
to follow out. The best teacher is the one who suggests rather than
dogmatizes, and inspires his listener with the wish to teach himself.
Therefore, O singer! whatever be the worth in critical eyes of your
songs, I am glad to remember that you would like to go through the world
always singing."

"Pardon me: you forget that I added, 'if life were always young, and the
seasons were always summer.'"

"I do not forget. But if youth and summer fade for you, you leav