he homeward faring.

XIX.

A SUNSET CLOUD.

Not long ago there slowly ascended into the evening sky a pillar of
cloud so vast that all measurements sank into insignificance beside it.
Its color was of softest gray just touched with the flush that deepens
the inmost chamber of a shell, or blushes in the unfolded petals of a
wind flower. With majestic yet almost imperceptible motion this cloud
mounted the blue background of the sky. The spectre of a faded moon
hung motionless above it an instant only, and then was swiftly drawn
within its soft eclipse. Changing from moment to moment, the great
mass took on all semblances of vivid fancy, until the evening sky
seemed the arena of dreamland's cohorts. With indescribable grace and
with the delicate lightness of a fairy footfall the mighty visitant
advanced and took possession of the heavenly field. Suddenly the full
glory of the setting sun smote it from outer rim to base. In less time
than it takes to tell the story the cloud was dissipated in a spray of
feathery light. It drifted like a wreath before the wind and lost
itself in the illimitable spaces of the air, as dust in the splendor of
a summer day. It broke upon the hills in a shower of flame and
dissolved above the still waters of the lake in tremulous flakes of
light. The sight was worth going far to see, and yet I am willing to
wager my to-morrow's dinner that not one-fiftieth of the folks for whom
I write, saw it, or would have left their supper to watch the glorious
spectacle.

XX.

ONE SECRET OF SUCCESS.

There is just one thing nowadays that never fails to bring success, and
that is assurance. If you are going to make yourself known, it is no
longer the thing to quietly hand out your card and a modest credential;
you must advance with a trumpet and blow a brazen blast to shake the
stars. The time has gone by when self-advancement can be gained by
modest and unassuming methods. To stand with lifted hat and solicit a
hearing savors of an all too humble spirit. The easily abashed may
starve in a garret, or go die on the highways. There is no chance for
them in the jostle of life. The gilded circus chariot, with a full
brass band and a plump goddess distributing posters, is what takes the
popular heart by storm. Your silent entry into town, depending upon
the merits of your wares to work up a trade, is chimerical and
obsolete. We no longer sit in the shadow and play flutes; we par