dwelt there in solitary happiness until an intruder
came and settled near by. There was incompatibility of temper, and a
feud began. Henceforth Pat had a grievance, and when a sympathetic
traveler passed by, he would pour out the story of his woes; for like
the wretched man of old he meditated evil on his bed against his enemy.
And yet, as I have said, the half-hours spent in listening to these
tirades were not cheerless, and no bad effects followed. Pat never
impressed me as being inclined to misanthropy; in fact, I think he might
have been set down as one who loved his fellow men, always excepting the
unlucky individual who lived next to him. He never imputed the sins of
this particular person to Humanity. There was always a sunny margin of
good humor around the black object of his hate. In this respect Pat was
angry and sinned not. After listening to his vituperative eloquence I
would ride on in a hopeful frame of mind. I had seen the worst and was
prepared for something better. It was too bad that Pat and his neighbor
did not get on better together. But this was an incident which did not
shut out the fact that it was a fine day, and that some uncommonly nice
people might live on the other side of the range.

But if Pat had possessed a high degree of literary talent, and had
written a book, I am sure the impression would have been quite
different. Two loveless souls, living on top of a lonely mountain, with
the pitiless stars shining down on their futile hate! What theme could
be more dreary. After reading the first chapter I should be miserable.

"This," I should murmur, "is Life. There are two symbolic figures,--Pat
and the Other. The artist, with relentless sincerity, refuses to allow
our attention to be distracted by the introduction of any characters
unconnected with the sordid tragedy. Here is human nature stripped of
all its pleasant illusions. What a poor creature is man!"

Pat and his neighbor, having become characters in a book, are taken as
symbols of humanity, just as the scholastic theologians argued in many
learned volumes, that Adam and Eve, being all that there were at the
time, should be treated as "all mankind," at least for purposes of
reprobation.

The author who is saddest when he writes takes us at a disadvantage. He
may assert that he is only telling us the truth. If it is ugly, that is
not his fault. He pictures to us the thing he sees, and declares that if
we could free ourselves from our