Herman Melville's "Moby Dick"? These men wrote,
whether in verse or prose, in the true spirit of poets; and Swift's
satire, which the text-book writers all tell you is so gross and
savage as to suggest the author's approaching madness, seems tender
and suave by comparison with what we know to-day.

Poetry is the log of man's fugitive castaway soul upon a doomed and
derelict planet. The minds of all men plod the same rough roads of
sense; and in spite of much knavery, all win at times "an ampler
ether, a diviner air." The great poets, our masters, speak out of
that clean freshness of perception. We hear their voices--

I there before thee, in the country that well thou knowest,
Already arrived am inhaling the odorous air.

So it is not vain, perhaps, to try clumsily to tell how this
delicious uneasiness first captured the spirit of one who, if not a
poet, is at least a lover of poetry. Thus he first looked beyond the
sunset; stood, if not on Parnassus, tiptoe upon a little hill. And
overhead a great wind was blowing.

[Illustration]

THE OLD RELIABLE

"Express train stalled in a snowdrift," said one. "The irascible old
white-haired gentleman in the Pullman smoker; the good-natured
travelling salesman; the wistful young widow in the day coach, with
her six-year-old blue-eyed little daughter. A coal-black Pullman
porter who braves the shrieking gale to bring in a tree from the
copse along the track. Red-headed brakeman (kiddies of his own at
home), frostbitten by standing all night between the couplings,
holding parts of broken steampipe together so the Pullman car will
keep warm. Young widow and her child, of course, sleeping in the
Pullman; white-haired old gentleman vacates his berth in their
favour. Good-natured travelling salesman up all night, making
cigar-band decorations for the Tree, which is all ready in the
dining car in the morning----"

* * * * *

"Old English inn on a desolate moor," said another. "Bright fire of
coals in the coffee room, sporting prints, yellow old newspaper
cutting framed on the mantelpiece describing gruesome murder
committed in the house in 1760. Terrible night of storm--sleet
tingling on the panes; crimson curtains fluttering in the draught;
roads crusted with ice; savoury fumes of roast goose, plum pudding,
and brandy. Pretty chambermaid in evident anxiety about something;
guest tries to kiss her in the corridor; she's to