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‘Earth was flat,’ croaked another voice opposite.

"Congratulations, dear old missus," said Bones. "Hope you'll be awfully happy on your plantation."

"Or, happier lot! Were fair Columbia free

This assertion, that the moral agent, is a free agent, does not deny that the behaviour of the good man is predictable theoretically in every detail, and to a large extent ‘even in practice. For it is essential to morality that there should be an objective and universal principle or system of principles according to which all right. acts, in whatever circumstances, must be regulated. The right act, there- fore, in any situation, can theoretically be described beforehand; and this is the act that the good man will choose. But though the behaviour of the good man is thus theoretically predictable in every detail, it is not to be called moral conduct unless it is free behaviour, unless his acceptance of the moral principle springs from nothing but his own ‘good will’. in fact, though his conduct is strictly determined in relation to the demands of the objective situation, it must be actually effected (if it is to be moral conduct) by nothing other than the free moral agent, who accepts the moral principle in general, and therefore freely chooses a determinate course through diverse circumstances.

I must tell you now, how very small is the party who constitute the inhabitants of our castle. I don’t include servants, or those dependents who occupy rooms in the buildings attached to the schloss. Listen, and wonder! My father, who is the kindest man on earth, but growing old; and I, at the date of my story, only nineteen. Eight years have passed since then.

"That night, he looked at my little brown girl, and touched her shoulder. I was across the deck, the girl coming to me with food. I said to him: 'No. She's mine, Quint.' And he looked at me, and I beat him with my eyes. And as his turned from mine, Fetcher and his woman came on deck, and Quint tapped Fetcher, and said to him: 'What will you take for her?'

She leaped back, the fright again in her eyes, snatched up the child, pressed it to her breast, and, falling into a chair, drummed insanely with her heels on the resounding floor of the verandah.

Looking ahead in the early morning the boys could see the distant jaws of land that doubtless marked the entrance to the Dardanelles Straits; numerous other big and little war vessels dotted the surface of the heaving sea.


My experience among other Indians, particularly the Sioux, Chippewa, and other tribes that have long had missionaries among them, leads me to the conclusion that Sandino’s views of Christianity will not be found to differ materially from those of many others converted. I afterwards had a much more satisfactory conversation with “Russio,” who verified Sandino’s statement concerning their belief, and object in burning their dead. This Chief also gave me in detail some of their traditions and mythologies, which I shall reserve for future description. 119

Nearly twenty years ago Anthony Hope began to write novels with red-haired heroines—The Prisoner of Zenda is perhaps the best-known of the series. No one could doubt that he admired warm-coloured hair, for auburns and reds appeared in all his books. One fine day an auburn-haired goddess crossed his path. She was young and beautiful, and just the living girl he had described so often in fiction. Anthony Hope, the well-known bachelor of London, was conquered by the American maid. A very short engagement was followed by a beautiful wedding in the [Pg 249]summer of 1903, at that quaint old city church, St. Bride’s, where his father has been Rector so long. It was a lovely hot day as we drove along the Embankment, through a labyrinth of printing offices and early newspaper carts, to the door of the church. All the bustle and heat of the city outside was forgotten in the cool shade of the handsome old building, decorated for the occasion with stately palms. Never was there a prettier wedding or a more lovely bride, and all the most beautiful women in London seemed to be present.

The Morality of the Profession of Letters 11

Chapter I

"There is more Washington in America now than when he who bore the name stood at the nation's head. Ever since Christ died, there has been a growth of the Christ-like.

If, Friends, you wou'd but now this Place accost,

“And I repeat to you, monsieur, that forty-eight hours shall not pass before we shall have marched upon the enemy!”

“Why, because he desires me, of course,” she said tranquilly.

Military historians, too, crowded the shelves. There might be noted the veracious Polybius--the classic Xenophon--the scientific Caesar--the amusing Froissart, with his quaint designs, and quainter discourses--and many an author unknown to fame, who in lengthy quarto, luxuriated on the lengthy campaigns of Marlborough or Eugene; those wise commanders, who flourished in an era, when war was a well debated scientific game of chess; when the rival opponents took their time, before making their moves; and the loss of a pawn was followed by the loss of a kingdom. There might you be enamoured with even a soldier's hardships, as your eye glanced on the glowing circumstantial details of Kincaid;--or you might glory in your country's Thucydides, as you read the nervous impassioned language of a Napier. Thou, too, Trant! our friend! wert there! Ah, why cut off in thy prime? Did not thy spirit glow with martial fire? Did not thy conduct give promise, that not in vain were those talents accorded thee? What hadst thou done, to sink thus early to a premature inglorious grave? Nor were our friends Folard and Jomini absent; nor eke the minute essays of a Jarry, who taught the aspiring youths of Great Britain all the arts of castrametation. With what gusto does he show how to attack Reading; or how, with the greatest chance of success, to defend the tranquil town of Egham. Here would he sink trous de loup on the ancient Runnimede, whereby the advance of the enemy's cavalry would be frustrated; there would he cut down an abattis, or plant chevaux de frise. At this winding of England's noblest river, would he establish a pontoon bridge; the approaches to which he would enfilade, by a battery placed on yonder height.

MR. CROTCHET. But, doctor, it is something to have a great reservoir of learning, at which some may draw if they please.

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