queer white pigs, with only two legs--think of that! They said 'Quack,
quack'--that is what they say in the world, you know, but, of course,
_you_ don't understand. Then I saw a great red pig, who cried,
'Mou-e-e-e!' There is but _one_ such pig in the world, and _I_ have seen
it. I am content to live quietly now, for I have seen the whole world!"

Who has not seen that smug satisfaction of small souls as reflected by
piggy?

There is a great deal in _looking_ wise even if you don't feel so. Talk
always of your "dones," and leave out the "undones."

Most of us have heard of the apocryphal American who "does Europe" in a
fortnight! I cannot say that I have actually met that gentleman, but I
have met pilgrims, both English and American, who will tell you grandly
that they have "done"--say Rome, in two, nay in one day! All the
antiquities, of _course_, and the Museums; and then comes a string of
names of churches, and galleries, until you gasp for breath! You go away
and lean against something to recover your breath, and your gravity, but
the pilgrimage is an accomplished fact. They have a right to stick to
the cockle-shell in their cap, so to speak, and go home saying, "Oh,
yes! We have done Rome, or Italy, or Egypt, _thoroughly_; missed
nothing!"

If one could take an impression of one of these pilgrim's brains by
"Kodak," one would get some queer results in chaos, rather like the game
of family post--the Raphael frescoes transferring themselves to Karnak,
and the Sphinx hiding in the Catacombs, whilst pictures, statuary, and
shrines of "cult" executed a Bacchanalian dance on a gigantic scale all
round.

But results do not alter facts; and in these busy days people are
generally content to _see_ your tree of knowledge; they have no time to
climb its branches to look for the fruit of wisdom!

We have changed our pilgrim weeds for an ulster of the latest cut, and
our Missal for a "Murray" or "Baedeker," but are we really so much wiser
than our forefathers?

Alas! we have but changed the object, and human nature, gullible ever,
sees no reason why it should not flock in thousands to drop a visiting
card into the tomb (so called) of "Juliet" at Verona, with as fond
credulity as their fathers, when they deposited their candle at the tomb
of some miracle-working saint; with this difference, however--that the
latter was deposited for the glory and praise of the saint, and the
former of the sinner _himself_. Who could say,