CONTENTS：
　　WorriesofaWinterWalkSummerIslesofEdenWildFlowersoftheAsphaltACircusintheSuburbsASheHamletTheMidnightPlatoonTheBeachatRockawaySawdustintheArenaAtaDimeMuseumAmericanLiteratureinExileTheHorseShowTheProblemoftheSummerAestheticNewYorkFifty—oddYearsAgoFromNewYorkintoNewEnglandTheArtoftheAdsmithThePsychologyofPlagiarismPuritanisminAmericanFictionTheWhatandHowinArtPoliticsinAmericanAuthorsStorage"FloatingdowntheRiverontheO—hi—o"
　　WORRIESOFAWINTERWALK
　　Theotherwinter，asIwastakingamorningwalkdowntotheEastRiver，Icameuponabitofourmotleylife，afactofourpiebaldcivilization，whichhasperplexedmefromtimetotime，eversince，andwhichIwishnowtoleavewiththereader，forhisorhermorethoughtfulconsideration。
　　I。
　　Themorningwasextremelycold。Itprofessedtobesunny，andtherewasreallysomesortofhardglitterintheair，which，sofarfrombeingtemperedbythiseffulgence，seemedallthestonierforit。Blastsoffrigidwindsweptthestreets，andbuffetedeachotherinafuryofresentmentwhentheymetaroundthecorners。AlthoughIwaspassingthroughapopuloustenement—housequarter，mywaywasnothinderedbythesportsofthetenement—housechildren，whocommonlycrowdonefromthesidewalks;nofrowzyheadlookedoutoverthefire—escapes;therewerenopeddlers’cartsorvoicesintheroad—way;notabovethreeorfourshawl—
　　hoodedwomencoweredoutofthelittleshopswithsmallpurchasesintheirhands;notsomanytinygirlswithjugsopenedthedoorsofthebeersaloons。Thebutchers’windowswerepaintedwithpatternsoffrost，throughwhichIcoulddimlyseethefrozenmeatshanginglikehideousstalactitesfromtheroof。WhenIcametotheriver，Iachedinsympathywiththeshippingpainfullyatiltontherocklikesurfaceofthebrine，whichbrokeagainstthepiers，andsprayeditselfoverthemlikeshowersofpowderedquartz。
　　ButitwasbeforeIreachedthisfinalpointthatIreceivedintomyconsciousnessthemomentsofthehumancomedywhichhavebeenanincreasingburdentoit。WithinablockoftheriverImetachildsosmallthatatfirstIalmostrefusedtotakeanyaccountofher，untilsheappealedtomysenseofhumorbyheramusingdisproportiontothepailwhichshewaslugginginfrontofherwithbothofherlittlemittenedhands。Iamscrupulousaboutmittens，thoughIwastemptedtowriteofherlittlenakedhands，redwiththepitilesscold。Thiswouldhavebeenmoreeffective，butitwouldnothavebeentrue，andthetruthobligesmetoownthatshehadastout，warm—lookingknitjacketon。
　　Thepail—whichwashalfherheightandtwiceherbulk—wasfilledtooverflowingwithsmallpiecesofcoalandcoke，andifithadnotbeenforthisImighthavetakenherforachildofthebetterclasses，shewassocomfortablyclad。Butinthatcaseshewouldhavehadtobefifteenorsixteenyearsold，inordertobedoingsoefficientlyandresponsiblytheworkwhich，asthechildoftheworseclasses，shewasactuallydoingatfiveorsix。Wemust，indeed，allowthattheearlyself—helpfulnessofsuchchildrenisveryremarkable，andallthemoresobecausetheygrowupintomenandwomensostupidthat，accordingtothetheoriesofallpoliteeconomists，theyhavetohavetheirdiscontentwiththeirconditionsputintotheirheadsbymalevolentagitators。
　　Fromtimetotimethistinycreatureputdownherheavyburdentorest;
　　itwas，ofcourse，onlyrelativelyheavy;amanwouldhavemadenothingofit。Fromtimetotimeshewasforcedtostopandpickupthebitsofcokethattumbledfromherheapingpail。Shecouldnotconsenttoloseoneofthem，andatlast，whenshefoundshecouldnotmakeallofthemstayontheheap，shethriftilytuckedthemintothepocketsofherjacket，andtrudgedsturdilyontillshemetaboysomeyearsolder，whoplantedhimselfinherpathandstoodlookingather，withhishandsinhispockets。Idonotsayhewasabadboy，butIcouldseeinhisfurtiveeyethatshewasasoretemptationtohim。Thechancetohavefunwithherbyupsettingherbucket，andscatteringhercokeabouttillshecriedwithvexation，wasonewhichmightnotoftenpresentitself，andIdonotknowwhatmadehimforegoit，butIknowthathedid，andthathefinallypassedher，asIhaveseenayoungdogpassalittlecat，afterhavingstoppedit，andthoughtfullyconsideredworryingit。
　　Iturnedtowatchthechildoutofsight，andwhenIfacedabouttowardstheriveragainIreceivedthesecondinstalmentofmypresentperplexity。Acart，heavilyladenwithcoke，droveoutofthecoal—yardwhichInowperceivedIhadcometo，andafterthiscartfollowedtwobriskoldwomen，snuglyclothedandtightlytuckedinagainstthecoldlikethechild，whoviedwitheachotherincatchingupthelumpsofcokethatwerejoltedfromtheload，andfillingtheirapronswiththem;sucholdwomen，sohale，sospry，sotoughandtireless，withthewitheredapplesredintheircheeks，Ihavenotoftenseen。Theymayhavebeenaboutsixtyyears，orsixty—five，thetimeoflifewhenmostwomenaregrandmothersandarerelegatedontheirmeritstothecushionedseatsoftheirchildren’shomes，softlysilk—gownedandlace—capped，dearvisionsoflilacandlavender，tobelovedandpettedbytheirgrandchildren。
　　Thefancycanhardlyputsuchsweetladiesintheplaceofthosenimblebeldams，whohoppedaboutthereinthewind—sweptstreet，pluckinguptheirday’ssupplyoffiringfromtheinvoluntarybountyofthecart。
　　Eventheattemptisunseemly，andwhethermineisatbestbutafeeblefancy，notbredtostrenuousfeatsofanykind，itfailstobringthembeforemeinthatfigure。Icannotimagineladiesdoingthatkindofthing;Icanonlyimaginewomenwhohadlivedhardandworkedhardalltheirlivesdoingit;whohadbeguntofightwithwantfromtheircradles，likethatlittleonewiththepail，andmustfightwithoutceasingtotheirgraves。ButIamnotunreasonable;IunderstandandI
　　understoodwhatIsawtobeoneofthethingsthatmustbe，fortheperfectlygoodandsufficientreasonthattheyalwayshavebeen;andatthemomentIgotwhatpleasureIcouldoutofthestolidindifferenceofthecart—driver，whoneverlookedabouthimatthescenewhichinterestedme，butjoltedonward，leavingatrailofpungentodorsfromhispipeinthefreezingeddiesoftheairbehindhim。
　　II。
　　Itisstillnotatall，ornotsomuch，thefactthattroublesme;itiswhattodowiththefact。Thequestionbeganwithmealmostatonce，oratleastassoonasIfacedaboutandbegantowalkhomewardwiththewindatmyback。Iwasthensomuchmorecomfortablethattheaestheticinstinctthawedoutinme，andIfoundmyselfwonderingwhatuseIcouldmakeofwhatIhadseeninthewayofmytrade。ShouldIhavesomethingverypathetic，liketheoldgrandmothergoingoutdayafterdaytopickupcokeforhersickdaughter’sfreezingorphanstillshefellsickherself？WhatshouldIdowiththefamilyinthatcase？Theycouldnotbeleftatthatpoint，andIpromptlyimaginedagranddaughter，agirlofabouteighteen，veryprettyandratherproud，asortofbelleinherhumbleneighborhood，whoshouldtakehergrandmother’splace。IdecidedthatIshouldhaveherItalian，becauseIknewsomethingofItalians，andcouldmanagethatnationalitybest，andIshouldcallherMaddalena;
　　eitherMaddalenaorMarina;MarinawouldbemoreVenetian，andIsawthatImustmakeherVenetian。HereIwasonsafeground，andatoncethelove—interestappearedtohelpmeout。Byvirtueofthelawofcontrasts;itappearedtomeinthepersonofaScandinavianlover，tall，silent，blond，whomIatoncefeltIcoulddo，frommyacquaintancewithScandinavianloversinNorwegiannovels。HisnamewasJanssen，agood，distinctiveScandinavianname;IdonotknowbutitisSwedish;andI
　　thoughthemightverywellbeaSwede;IcouldimaginehismannerfromthatofaSwedishwaitressweoncehad。
　　Janssen——JanJanssen，say—drovethecoke—cartwhichMarina’sgrandmotherusedtofollowoutofthecoke—yard，topickupthebitsofcokeastheywerejoltedfromit，andhehadoftennoticedherwithdeepindifference。
　　AtfirsthenoticedMarina——orNina，asIsoonsawImustcallher——withthesameunconcern;forinhergrandmother’shoodandjacketandcheckapron，withherheadheldshamefacedlydownward，shelookedexactlyliketheoldwoman。IthoughtIwouldhaveNinamakeherself—sacrificerebelliously，asagirllikeherwouldbeapttodo，andfollowthecokecartwithtears。ThiswouldcatchJanssen’snotice，andhewouldwonder，perhapswithalittlepang，whattheoldwomanwascryingabout，andthenhewouldseethatitwasnottheoldwoman。HewouldseethatitwasNina，andhewouldbeinlovewithheratonce，forshewouldnotonlybeverypretty，buthewouldknowthatshewasgood，ifshewerewillingtohelpherfamilyinthatway。
　　Hewouldrespectthegirl，inhisdull，sluggish，Northernway。Hewoulddonothingtobetrayhimself。Butlittlebylittlehewouldbegintobefriendher。Hewouldcarelesslyoverloadhiscartbeforehelefttheyard，sothatthecokewouldfallfromitmorelavishly;andnotonlythis，butifhesawastoneorapieceofcoalinthestreethewoulddriveoverit，sothatmorecokewouldbejoltedfromhisload。
　　Ninawouldgettowatchingforhim。Shemustnotnoticehimmuchatfirst，exceptasthedriveroftheoverladen，carelesslydrivencart。
　　Butafterseveralmorningsshemustseethatheisverystrongandhandsome。Then，afterseveralmorningsmore，theireyesmustmeet，hervividblackeyes，withthetearsofrageandshameinthem，andhiscoldblueeyes。Thismustbetheclimax;andjustatthispointIgavemyfancyarest，whileIwentintoadrugstoreatthecornerofAvenueBtogetmyhandswarm。
　　Theywereabominablycold，eveninmypockets，andIhadsufferedpastseveralplacestryingtothinkofanexcusetogoin。InowaskedthedruggistifhehadsomethingwhichIfeltprettysurehehadnot，andthisputhiminthewrong，sothatwhenwefellintotalkhewasverypolite。Weagreedadmirablyaboutthehardtimes，andhegavewayrespectfullywhenIdoubtedhisopinionthatthewintersweregettingmilder。Imadehimreflectthattherewasnoreasonforthis，andthatitwasprobablyanillusionfromthatdeeperimpressionwhichallexperiencesmadeonusinthepast，whenwewereyounger;Ioughttosaythathewasanelderlyman，too。IsaidIfanciedsuchamorningasthiswasnotverymildforpeoplethathadnofires，andthisbroughtmebackagaintoJanssenandMarina，bywayofthecoke—cart。ThethoughtofthemraptmesofarfromthedruggistthatIlistenedtohisanswerwithaglazingeye，anddidnotknowwhathesaid。Myhandshadnowgotwarm，andIbadehimgood—morningwithapartingregret，whichhecivillyshared，thathehadnotthethingIhadnotwanted，andIpushedoutagainintothecold，whichIfoundnotsobadasbefore。
　　Myheroandheroinewerewaitingformethere，andIsawthattobetrulymodern，tobeatoncerealisticandmystical，tohavebothdelicacyandstrength，Imustnotletthemgetfurtheracquaintedwitheachother。
　　Theaffairmustsimplygoonfromdaytoday，tillonemorningJanmustnotethatitwasagainthegrandmotherandnolongerthegirlwhowasfollowinghiscart。Shemustbeveryweakfromalongsickness——Iwasnotsurewhethertohaveitthegrippeornot，butIdecideduponthatprovisionallyandshemusttotterafterJanssen，sothathemustgetdownafterawhiletospeaktoherunderpretenceofarrangingthetail—boardofhiscart，orsomethingofthatkind;Ididnotcareforthedetail。
　　TheyshouldgetintotalkinthebrokenEnglishwhichwastheonlylanguagetheycouldhaveincommon，andsheshouldburstintotears，andtellhimthatnowNinawassick;Iimaginedmakingthisverysimple，butverytouching，andIreallymadeitsotouchingthatitbroughtthelumpintomyownthroat，andIknewitwouldbeeffectivewiththereader。
　　ThenIhadJangetbackuponhiscart，anddrivestolidlyonagain，andtheoldwomanlimpfeeblyafter。
　　Thereshouldnotbeanymore，Idecided，exceptthatoneverycoldmorning，likethat;Janshouldbedrivingthroughthatstreet，andshouldbepassingthedoorofthetenementhousewhereNinahadlived，justasalittleprocessionshouldbeissuingfromit。Thefactmustbetoldinbriefsentences，withatotalabsenceofemotionality。ThelasttouchmustbeJan’scartturningthestreetcornerwithJan’sfiguresharplysilhouettedagainsttheclear，coldmorninglight。Nothingmore。
　　Butitwasatthispointthatanothernotioncameintomymind，soantic，soimpish，sofiendish，thatiftherewerestillanyEvilOne，inaworldwhichgetsonsopoorlywithouthim，Ishouldattributeittohissuggestion;andthiswasthattheprocessionwhichJansawissuingfromthetenement—housedoorwasnotafuneralprocession，asthereaderwillhaverashlyfancied，butaweddingprocession，withNinaattheheadofit，quitewellagain，andgoingtobemarriedtothelittlebrownyouthwithear—ringswhohadlonghadherheart。
　　Withatrulyperverseinstinct，Isawhowstrongthismightbemade，atthefondreader’sexpense，tobesure，andhowmuchmorepathetic，insuchacase，thesilhouettedfigureonthecoke—cartwouldreallybe。
　　Ishould，ofcourse，makeitperfectlyplainthatnoonewastoblame，andthatthewholeaffairhadbeensotacitonJan’spartthatNinamightverywellhaveknownnothingofhisfeelingforher。PerhapsattheveryendImightsubtlyinsinuatethatitwaspossiblehemighthavehadnosuchfeelingtowardsherasthereaderhadbeenledtoimagine。
　　III。
　　ThequestionastowhichendingIoughttohavegivenmyromanceiswhathaseversinceremainedtoperplexme，anditiswhathaspreventedmyeverwritingit。Hereismaterialofthebestsortlyinguselessonmyhands，which，ifIcouldonlymakeupmymind，mightbewroughtintoashortstoryasaffectingasanythatwringourheartsinfiction;andI
　　thinkIcouldgetsomethingfairlyunintelligibleoutofthebrokenEnglishofJanandNina’sgrandmother，andcertainlysomethingnovel。
　　AllthatIcandonow，however，istoputthecasebeforethereader，andlethimdecideforhimselfhowitshouldend。
　　Themerehumanist，Isuppose，mightsay，thatIamrightlyservedforhavingregardedthefactIhadwitnessedasmaterialforfictionatall;
　　thatIhadnobusinesstobewitchitwithmymiserableart;thatIoughttohavespokentothatlittlechildandthosepooroldwomen，andtriedtolearnsomethingoftheirlivesfromthem，thatImightoffermyknowledgeagainfortheinstructionofthosewhoselivesareeasyandhappyintheindifferencewhichignorancebreedsinus。Iownthereissomethinginthis，butthen，ontheotherhand，Ihavehearditurgedbynicepeoplethattheydonotwanttoknowaboutsuchsqualidlives，thatitisoffensiveandoutoftastetobealwaysbringingthemin，andthatweoughttobewritingaboutgoodsociety，andespeciallycreatinggrandesdamesfortheiramusement。Thissortofpeoplecouldsaytothehumanistthatheoughttobegladtherearecoke—cartsforfueltofallofffromforthelowerclasses，andthatherewasnocaseforsentiment;
　　forifoneistobeinterestedinsuchthingsatall，itmustbeaesthetically，thougheventhisisdeplorableinthepresenceoffictionalreadyoverloadedwithlowlife，andsopooringradesdamesasours。
　　SUMMERISLESOFEDEN
　　Itmaybeallanillusionofthemap，wheretheSummerIslandsglimmerasmallandsolitarylittlegroupofdotsandwrinkles，remotefromcontinentalshores，withastraightlinedescendingsoutheastwardlyuponthem，toshowhowsharpandswifttheship’scourseis，buttheyseemsofarandalienfrommywontedplacethatitisasifIhadsliddownasteepyslantfromthehome—planettoagroupofasteroidsnebuloussomewhereinmiddlespace，andwererestingthere，stillvibrantfromtherushofthemeteoricfall。Therewere，ofcourse，factsandincidentscontrarytosuchatheory：asteamerstartingfromNewYorkintherawMarchmorning，andlurchingandtwistingthroughtwodaysofdiagonalseas，withpeopleaboarddiningandundining，andtalkingandsmokingandcocktailingandhot—scotchingandbeef—teaing;butwhentheshipcameinsightoftheislands，andtheybegantolifttheircedaredslopesfromtheturquoisewaters，andtoexplaintheirdriftedsnowsasthewhitewallsandwhiteroofsofhouses，thenthewakingsensebecamethedreamingsense，andthesweetimpossibilityofthatdropthroughairbecamethesolereality。
　　I。
　　Everythinghere，indeed，issostrangethatyouplacidlyacceptwhateveroffersitselfasthesimplestandnaturalestfact。Thoselowhills，thatclimb，withtheirtough，darkcedars，fromthesummerseatothesummersky，mighthavedrifteddownacrosstheGulfStreamfromthecoastofMaine;butwhen，uponcloserinspection，youfindthemskirtedwithpalmsandbananas，andhedgedwitholeanders，youmerelywonderthatyouhadnevernoticedthesegrowthsinMainebefore，whereyouweresofamiliarwiththecedars。Thehotelitself，whichhasbroughttheGreenMountainswithit，ineverydetail，fromthedormer—windowedmansard—roof，andthewhite—painted，green—shutteredwalls，totheneat，school—mistresslywaitressesinthedining—room，hasaclumpofpalmettosbesideit，swayingandsighinginthetropicbreeze，andyouknowthatwhenitmigratesbacktotheNewEnglandhill—country，attheendoftheseason，youshallfinditwiththepalmettosstillbeforeitsveranda，andequallyathome，somewhereintheVermontorNewHampshireJuly。TherewillbethesameAmericangroupslookingoutoverthem，androckingandsmoking，though，alas！notsomanysmokingasrocking。
　　Butwhere，inthattranslation，wouldbethegoldbraidedredorbluejacketsoftheBritisharmyandnavywhichlendtheirlustreandcolorheretotheverandagroups？Whereshouldonegetthehousewallsofwhitewashedstoneandthegardenwallswhicheverywhereglowinthesun，andbeltinlittlespacesfullofrosesandlilies？Thesethingsmustcomefromsomeotherassociation，andinthecaseofhimwhohereconfesses，thelustrousuniformsandtheglowingwallsrisefromwatersasfarawayintimeasinspace，andalong—agoapparitionofVenetianJuneshauntsthecoralshore。（Theyarebeginningtosaytheshoreisnotcoral;butnomatter。）Tobesure，thewhiteroofsarenotaccountedforinthisvisionarypresence;andifonemaynotrelatethemtothesnowfallsofhomewinters，thenonemustfranklyownthemabsolutelytropical，togetherwiththegreen—pillaredandgreen—latticedgalleries。
　　TheyatleastsuggestthetropicalsceneryofPrueandIasoneremembersseeingitthroughTitbottom’sspectacles;andyet，ifonesuppliesroofsofbrown—redtiles，itisallVenetianenough，withthelagoon—likeexpansesthatlendthemselvestothefondeffect。ItissoVenetian，indeed，thatitwantsbutafewsilentgondolasandnoisygondoliers，inplaceofthedark，taciturnoarsmenoftheclumsynativeboats，tocompletethecomingandgoingillusion;andthereisnogoodreasonwhytheroughlittleislesthatfillthebayshouldnotcallthemselvesrespectivelySanGiorgioandSanClemente，andSant’ElenaandSanLazzaro：theyprobablyhavenoothernames！
　　II。
　　ThesesummerislesofEdenhavethisadvantageoverthescripturalEden，thatapparentlyitwasnotwomanandherseedwhowereexpelled，whenonceshesetfoothere，buttheserpentandhisseed：womennowaboundintheSummerIslands，andthereisnotasnakeanywheretobefound。Therearesometortoisesandagreatmanyfrogsintheirseason，butnootherreptiles。Thefrogsarefabledofanotesodeepandhoarsethatitsvibrationalmostspringstheenvironingminesofdynamite，thoughithasneveryetdoneso;thetortoisesgrowtoagreatsizeandapatriarchalage，andarefondofBostonbrownbreadandbakedbeans，iftheirpreferencesmaybejudgedfromthoseofacolossalspecimeninthecareofanAmericanfamilylivingontheislands。Theobserverwhocontributesthisfacttoscienceisabletoreportthecaseofaparrot—
　　fish，onthesamepremises，soexactlylikealargebrownandpurplecockatoothat，seeingsuchacockatoolaterondryland，itwaswithasenseofsomethinglikecrueltyinitsexilefromitsnativewaters。
　　Theangel—fishhethinksnotsomuchlikeangels;theyareofatransparentpurityofsubstance，andacherubicinnocenceofexpression，buttheyterminateintwotails，whichsomehowwillnotlendthemselvestotheresemblance。
　　Certainlytheangel—fishisnotsowellnamedastheparrot—fish;itmightbetterbecalledtheghostfish，itissolikeamoonbeaminthepoolsithaunts，andofsuchaconvertiblequalitywiththeiridescentvegetablegrowthsaboutit。Allthingshereareofaweirdconvertibilitytothealienperception，andtherichestandrarestfactsofnaturelavishthemselvesinhumbleassociationwiththecommonestandmostfamiliar。Youdrivethroughlongstretchesofwaysidewillows，andrealizeonlynowandthenthatthesewillowsarethickclumpsofoleanders;andthroughthemyoucancatchglimpsesofbanana—orchards，whichlooklikedishevelledpatchesofgiganticcornstalks。ThefieldsofEasterliliesdonotquiteliveuptotheirphotographs;theyarepresentlysufferingfromamysteriousblight，andtheirflowersarenotfrequentenoughtolendthemthatsculpturesqueeffectnearto，whichtheywearasfaroffasNewYork。Thepotato—fields，ontheotherhand，areofatenderdelicacyofcoloringwhichcompensatesforthelilies’
　　lack，andthepalmsgivenojustcauseforcomplaint，unlessbecausetheyarenotnearlyenoughtocharacterizethelandscape，whichinspiteoftheirpresenceremainssonortherninaspect。Theyweremuchwhippedandtornbyalatehurricane，whichafflictedallthevegetationoftheislands，andsomeoftheroyalpalmswereblowndown。Wheretheseareyetstanding，asfourorfiveofthemareinafamousavenuenowquiteone—sided，theyareofamajestybefittingthatofanykingwhocouldpassbythem：nosovereignexceptPhilipofMacedoninhisleastjudicialmomentscouldpassbetweenthem。
　　Thecentury—plant，whichheredoesnotrequirepamperingunderglass，butboldlytakesitsplaceoutdoorswiththeothertreesofthegarden，employsmuchlessthanahundredyearstobringitselftobloom。
　　Itoftenflowerstwiceorthriceinthatspaceoftime，andoughttotakeawaythereproachoftheinhabitantsforawantofindustryandenterprise：acentury—plantatleastcoulddonomoreinanyair，anditmeritspraiseforitsactivityinthebreathoftheselanguorousseas。
　　Onesuchmustbeinbloomatthisverywriting，inthegardenofahousewhichthisverywritermarkedforhisownonhisfirstdriveashorefromthesteamertothehotel，whenhebestowedinitsdim，unknowninterioroneofthemanymultiplesofhimselfwhicharenowprettywelldispersedamongthepleasantplacesoftheearth。Itfillsthenightwithaheavyheliotropeansweetness，andontheherbbeneath，intheeffulgenceofthewaxingmoon，themultiplewhichhasspirituallyexpropriatedthelegalownersstretchesitselfinaninterminablereverie，andhearsYouthcomelaughingbacktoitonthewaterskissingtheadjacentshore，whereotherwhitehouses（whichalsoitinhabits）bathetheirsnowyunderpinning。
　　Inthisdreamthemultipledriveshomefromtheballsofeitherhotelwiththeyounggirlsinthelittlevictoriaswhichmustpassitssojourn;
　　and，beingbutavisionitself，forecaststheshapesofflirtationwhichshallnight—longgildthevisionsoftheirsleepwiththeflashofmilitaryandnavaluniforms。Ofcoursethemultiplehasbeenatthedancetoo（withashadowyheartacheforthedancesoffortyyearsago），andknowsenoughnottoconfusetheuniforms。
　　III。
　　Inwhateverwayyouwalk，atwhateverhour，thebirdsaresweetlycallingintheway—sideoleandersandthewildsage—bushesandthecedar—tops。
　　Theyaremostlycat—birds，quitelikeourown;andbluebirds，butofadeeperbluethanours，andredbirdsofasliquidanote，butnotsovaried，asthatoftheredbirdsofourwoods。Howcametheyallhere，sevenhundredmilesfromanylargerland？Somethink，onthestrongerwingsoftempests，foritisnotwithintheknowledgeofmenthatmenbroughtthem。Mendid，indeed，bringthepestilentsparrowswhichswarmabouttheirhabitationshere，andbeatawaythegentlerandlovelierbirdswithaferocityunknowninthehumanoccupationoftheislands。
　　Still，thesparrowshavebynomeansconquered，andinthewilderplacesthecatbirdmakescommoncausewiththebluebirdandtheredbird，andholdsitsownagainstthem。Thelittleground—dovesmimicinminiaturetheformandmarkingsandthegaitandmildbehaviorofourturtle—doves，butperhapsnottheirmelancholycooing。Naturehasnowhereanythingprettierthantheseexquisitecreatures，unlessitbethelong—tailedwhitegullswhichsailovertheemeraldshallowsofthelandlockedseas，andtakethegreenupontheirtranslucentbodiesastheytrailtheirmeteoricsplendoragainstthemiddaysky。Fulltwenty—fourinchestheymeasurefromthebeaktothetipofthesinglepenthatprotractsthemafootbeyondtheirrealbulk;butitissaidtheirtempersareshorterthanthey，andtheyattackfiercelyanythingtheysuspectoftoointimateacuriosityconcerningtheirnests。
　　Theyareprobablytheonlyshort—temperedthingsintheSummerIslands，wheretimeissolongthatifyouloseyourpatienceyoueasilyfinditagain。Sweetness，ifnotlight，seemstobetheprevailinghumanquality，andagoodshareofitbelongstosuchofthenativesasareinnowiselight。Ourpoorbrethrenofadifferentpigmentareinthelargemajority，andtheyhavebeenseventyyearsoutofslavery，withthefullenjoymentofalltheircivilrights，withoutliftingthemselvesfromtheiroldinferiority。Theydothehardwork，intheirowneasyway，andpossiblydonotfindlifetheburdentheymakeitforthewhiteman，whomhere，asinourowncountry，theyloadupwiththeconundrumwhichtheirexistenceinvolvesforhim。Theyarenotverygay，anddonotrisetoajokewiththatflashingeagernesswhichtheyshowforitathome。Ifyouhavethemagainstabackgroundofbanana—stems，orlowpalms，orfeatherycanes，nothingcouldbemoreacceptablycharacteristicoftheairandsky;noraretheyoutofplaceontheboxofthelittlevictorias，wherevisitorsofthemoreinquisitivesexputthemtoconstantquestion。Suchvisitorssparenoislanderofanycolor。Once，intheprettyPublicGardenwhichthemultiplehadclaimedforitsprivateproperty，threeunmercifulAmericanwomensuddenlydescendedfromtheheavensandbegantoquestionthemultiple’sgardener，whowaspeacefullydiggingattherateofaspadefuleveryfiveminutes。Presentlyhesatdownonhiswheelbarrow，andthenshifted，withoutrelief，fromonehandleofittotheother。Thenheroseandbracedhimselfdesperatelyagainstthetool—
　　house，where，whenhistormentorsdriftedaway，heseemedtothesofteyeofpitypinnedtothewallbytheircruelinterrogations，whosebarbedpointswereburiedinthestuccobehindhim，andwhosefeatheredshaftsstuckouthalfayardbeforehisbreast。
　　Whetherhewasblackornot，pitycouldnotsee，butprobablyhewas。
　　Atleastthegarrisonoftheislandsisallblack，beingaJamaicanregimentofthatcolor;andwhenoneofthewarriorscomesdownthewhitestreet，withhisswagger—stickinhishand，andflaminginscarletandgolduponthegroundofhisownblackness，itisasifagiganticoriolewerecomingtowardsyou，oramightytulip。Thesegorgeouscreaturesseemsomuchreadierthanthenativestolaugh，thatyouwishtotestthemwithajoke。Butitmightfail。TheSummerIslandsareaBritishcolony，andthejokedoesnotflourishsoluxuriantly，hereassomeotherthings。
　　Tobesure，oneofthenativefruitsseemsasortofjokewhenyouhearitfirstnamed，andwhenyouareoffereda’loquat’，ifyouareofafrivolousmindyousearchyourmindfortheconnectionwith’loquor’
　　whichitseemstointimate。Failinginthis，youtastethefruit，andthen，ifitisnotperfectlyripe，youareasfarfromloquaciousnessasifyouhadbittenagreenpersimmon。Butifitisripe，itisdelicious，andmaybeconsumedindefinitely。Itistheonlynativefruitwhichonecanwishtoeatatall，withanunpractisedpalate，thoughitisclaimedthatwithexperiencearelishmaycomeforthepawpaws。Thesebreakoutinclustersofthesizeoforangesatthetopofathickpole，whichmayhavesomeleavesormaynot，andripenastheyfancyintheindefinitesummer。Theyareofthecolorandflavorofaveryinsipidlittlemuskmelonwhichhasgrowntoonearapatchofsquashes。
　　Onemaylearntolikethispawpaw，yes，butonemuststudyhard。ItisbestwhenpluckedbyayoungislanderofItalianbloodwhosefatherordershimupthebarepoleinthesunnySundaymorningairtoobligethesignori，andthenwithapawpawineitherhandstandstalkingwiththemaboutthetwobadyearstherehavebeeninBermuda，andtheprobabilityofhisdoingbetterinNuovaYork。Hehasnotimaginedourwinter，however，andheshrinksfromitsboldlypicturedrigors，andletsthesignorigowithasigh，andabunchofpinkandcrimsonroses。
　　Therosesarehere，buddingandbloominginthequietbewildermentwhichattendstheflowersandplantsfromthetemperatezoneinthislatitude，andwhichinthecaseofthestrawberriesofferedwithcreamandcakeatanotherpublicgardenexpressesitselfinaconfusionofred，ripefruitandwhiteblossomsonthesamestem。Theyareapleasuretothenoseandeyeratherthanthepalate，ashappenswithsomanygrowthsofthetropics，ifindeedtheSummerIslandsaretropical，whichsomeplausiblydeny;thoughwhyshouldnotstrawberries，freshpickedfromtheplantinmid—March，enjoytherighttobeindifferentsweet？
　　IV。
　　Whatremains？TheeventsoftheSummerIslandsarefew，andnoneoutoftheorderofathleticsbetweenteamsofthearmyandnavy，andwhatmaybecalledsocietetics，havehappenedinthepastenchantedfortnight。
　　Butfarbetterthingsthaneventshavehappened：sunshineandrainofsuchlikequalitythatonecouldnotgrumbleateither，andgales，nowfromthesouthandnowfromthenorth，withthelanguoroftheoneandthevigoroftheotherinthem。Thereweredrivesupondrivesthatwerealwaystosomewhere，butwouldhavebeendelightfulthesameiftheyhadbeenmeregoingsandcomings，pastthewhitehousesoverlookinglittlelawnsthroughtheumbrageoftheirpalm—trees。Thelawnsprofessedtobeofgrass，butwerereallymatsofcloselittleherbswhichwerenotgrass;butwhich，wherethesparsecattleweregrazingthem，seemedtosatisfytheirinexactingstomachs。Theyareneververygreen，andinfactthelandscapeoftenhasanairofexhaustionandpausewhichitwearswithusinlateAugust;andwhynot，afterallitsinterminable，innumerablesummers？Everywhereinthegentlehollowswhichthecoralhills（iftheyarecoral）sinkintoarethepatchesofpotatoesandliliesandonionsdrawingtheirgeometricallinesacrossthebrown—red，weedlesssoil;andinveryshelteredspotsarebanana—orchardswhichareneversosnuglyshelteredtherebuttheirbroadleavesarewhippedtoshreds。Thewhiteroadwindsbetweengraywallscrumblinginanamiabledisintegration，butheldtogetheragainstruinbyanetworkofmaidenhairfernsandcreepersofunknownname，andoverhungbytreeswherethecactusclimbsandhangsinspikylinks，orifanothersort，piercesthemwithspearystemsastallandstraightasthestalksoftheneighboringbamboo。Theloquat—treescluster——likequincesinthegardencloses，andshowtheirpalegolden，plum—shapedfruit。
　　Forthemostparttheroadrunsbystillinlandwaters，butsometimesitclimbstothehighdownsbesidetheopensea，grotesquewithwind—wornandwave—wornrocks，andbeautifulwithopalescentbeaches，andtheblacklegsofthenegrochildrenpaddlinginthetintsoftheprostraterainbow。
　　Allthisseemsprobableandnaturalenoughatthewriting;buthowwillitbewhenonehasturnedone’sbackuponit？Willitnotlapseintothegrossfableoftravellers，andbeasthethingswhichtheliarswhoswapthemcannotthemselvesbelieve？WhatwillbesaidtoyouwhenyoutellthatintheSummerIslandsonehasbuttosawaholeinhisbackyardandtakeoutahouseofsoft，creamysandstoneandsetitupandgotolivinginit？What，whenyourelatethatamongthenorthernandsouthernevergreenstherearedeciduoustreeswhich，inaclimewherethereisnofallorspring，simplydroptheirleaveswhentheyaretiredofkeepingthemon，andputoutotherswhentheyfeellikeit？What，whenyoupretendthatintheabsenceofserpentstherearecentipedesaspanlong，andspidersthebignessofbats，andmosquitoesthatsweetlysinginthedrowsingear，butbitenot;orthatthereareswampsbutnostreams，andinthemarshesstandmangrove—treeswhosebranchesgrowdownwardintotheooze，asiftheywishedtogetbackintotheearthandpullinafterthemtheholestheyemergedfrom？
　　Theseevery—dayfactsseemnotonlyincredibletotheliarhimself，evenintheirpresence，butwhenyoubegintheascentofthatsteepslantbacktoNewYorkyouforeseethattheywillbecomeimpossible。AsimpossibleasthesummitoftheslantnowappearstothesensewhichshudderinglyfiguresitaBermudapawpaw—treesevenhundredmileshigh，andfruitingiciclesandsnowballsintheMarchair！
　　WILDFLOWERSOFTHEASPHALT
　　LookingthroughMrs。CarolineA。Creevey’scharmingbookontheFlowersofField，Hill，andSwamp，theotherday，Iwasveryforciblyremindedofthenumberofthesepretty，wildinggrowthswhichIhadbeenfindingalltheseasonlongamongthestreetsofasphaltandthesidewalksofartificialstoneinthiscity;andIamquitesurethatanyonewhohasbeenkeptinNewYork，asIhavebeenthisyear，beyondthenaturaltimeofgoingintothecountry，canhaveasrealapleasureinthissylvaninvasionasmine，ifhewillbutgivehimselfuptoasenseofit。
　　I。
　　Ofcourseitisaltogethertoolate，now，tolookforanyoftheearlyspringflowers，butIcanrecalltheexquisiteeffectofthetenderbluehepaticafringingthecentrerailofthegrip—cars，allupanddownBroadway，andapparentlyspringingfromthehollowbeneath，wherethecableranwithsuchabrooklikegurglethatanydamp—livingplantmustfinditselfathomethere。Thewater—pimpernelmaynowbeseen，byanysympatheticeye，blowingdelicatelyalongthetrack，inthebreezeofthepassingcabs，andelasticallyliftingitselffromtherushofthecars。
　　ThereadercaneasilyverifyitbythepictureinMrs。Creevey’sbook。
　　Heknowsitbyitsothernameofbrookweed;andhewillhavemydelight，Iamsure，inthecardinal—flowerwhichwillbewithusinAugust。Itisashyflower，lovingthemoresequesterednooks，andmaybesoughtalongtheshadystretchesofThirdAvenue，wheretheElevatedRoadoverheadformsashelterasofinterlacingboughs。Thearrow—headlikessuchswampyexpansesastheconvergingsurfaceroadsformatDeadMan’sCurveandthecornersofTwentythirdStreet。Thisisinflowernow，andwillbetillSeptember;andSt。—John’s—wort，whichsomecallthefalsegolden—
　　rod，isalreadyhere。Youmayfinditinanymoist，lowground，buttheguttersofWallStreet，oreventhebanksoftheStockExchange，arenottoodryforit。Therealgolden—rodisnotmuchinevidencewithus，foritcomesonlywhensummerisonthewane。Theothernight，however，onthepromenadeoftheMadisonSquareRoofGarden，Iwasdelightedtoseeitgrowingallovertheoblongdomeoftheauditorium，inresponsetothecryofahomesickcricketwhichfounditselfinexilethereatthebaseofapottedevergreen。Thislonelyinsecthadnosoonersoundeditswinter—bodingnotethanthefondflowerbegansympatheticallytowaveanddroopalongthosetarryslopes，asIhaveseenitonhowmanyhill—sidepastures！Butthismayhavebeenonlyatransitoryresponsetothecricket，andIcannotpromisethevisitortotheRoofGardenthathewillfindgolden—rodthereeverynight。IbelievethereisalwaysGoldenSeal，butitisthekindthatcomesinbottles，andnotinthegloomof"deep，cool，moistwoods，"whereMrs。Creeveydescribesitasgrowing，alongwithotherwildingsofsuchsweetnamesorquaintasCelandine，andDwarfLarkspur，andSquirrel—corn，andDutchman’sbreeches，andPearlwort，andWood—sorrel，andBishop’s——cap，andWintergreen，andIndian—pipe，andSnowberry，andAdder’s—tongue，andWakerobin，andDragon—root，andAdam—and—Eve，andtwentymore，whichmusthavegottheirnamesfromsomefairyofgenius。Ishouldsayitwasafemalefairyofgeniuswhocalledthemso，andthatshehadherownsexamongmortalsinmindwhensheinventedtheirnomenclature，andwasthinkingoflittlegirls，andslim，prettymaids，andhappyyoungwives。Theauthortellshowtheyalllook，withafinesenseoftheircharminherwords，butonewouldknowhowtheylookedfromtheirnames;andwhenyoucallthemovertheyatoncetransplantthemselvestothedepthsofthedellsbetweenoursky—scrapers，andfindabriefsojourninthecavernousexcavationswhenceothersky—scrapersaretorise。
　　II。
　　ThatnightontheRoofGarden，whenthecricket’scryfloweredthedomewithgolden—rod，thetallstemsofryegrowingamongtheorchestraslopedallonewayattimes，justlikethebowsofviolins，inthehalf—dollargalethatalwaysblowsoverthecityatthatheight。ButasoneturnstheleavesofMrs。Creevey’smagicbook—perhapsoneoughttosayturnsitspetals——theforestsandthefieldscomeandmakethemselvesathomeinthecityeverywhere。ByvirtueofitIhavebeenmoreinthecountryinahalf—hourthanifIhadlivedallJunethere。WhenIliftmyeyesfromitspicturesoritsletter—pressmyvisionprintstheeidolonsofwildflowerseverywhere，asitprintstheimageofthesunagainsttheairafterdwellingonhisbrightness。Therose—mallowflauntsalongFifthAvenueandthegoldenthreadsofthedodderembroiderthehousefrontsontheprincipalcrossstreets;andImightthinkattimesthatitwasallmerefancy，ithassomuchthequalityofapleasingillusion。
　　YetMrs。Creevey’sbookisnotonetolenditselftosuchadeceitbyanyoftheordinaryarts。Itisrathermatteroffactinformandmanner，andlargelyoweswhatmagicithastotheinherentcharmofitssubject。
　　Onefeelsthisinmerelyglancingattheindex，andreadingsuchtitlesofchaptersas"WetMeadowsandLowGrounds";"DryFields——WastePlaces——
　　Waysides";"HillsandRockyWoods，OpenWoods";and"Deep，Cool，MoistWoods";eachapoeminitself，lyricorpastoral，andofasurpassingopulenceofsuggestion。Thespringand，summermonthspassinstatelyprocessionalthroughthebook，eachwithherfilletinscribedwiththenamesofhercharacteristicflowersorblossoms，andbrightenedwiththebloomsthemselves。
　　Theyarepluckedfromwherenaturebadethemgrowinthewildplaces，ortheirownwaywardwillsledthemastray。Asingularlyfascinatingchapteristhatcalled"EscapedfromGardens，"inwhichsomeoftheseprettyrunagatesarecatalogued。IsupposedinmyliberalignorancethattheBouncingBetwastheonlyoneofthese，butIhavelearnedthatthePansyandtheSweetVioletlovetogad，andthattheCaraway，theSnapdragon，thePrince’sFeather，theSummerSavory，theStarofBethlehem，theDay—Lily，andtheTiger—Lily，andeventhesluggishStoneCropareofthevagrant，fragrantcompany。OneisnotsurprisedtomeettheTiger—Lilyinit;thatmustalwayshavehadthejungleinitsheart;
　　butthattheBaby’sBreathshouldbefoundwanderingbytheroad—sidesfromMassachusettsandVirginiatoOhio，givesoneatenderpangasforalostchild。Perhapsthepoorhumantramps，whosleepinbarnsandfeedatbackdoorsalongthosedustyways，aremindfuloftheBaby’sBreath，andkeepakindlyeyeoutforthelittletruant。
　　III。
　　AsIwaswritingthosehomelynamesIfeltagainhowfitandlovelytheywere，howmuchmorefitandlovelythanthescientificnamesoftheflowers。Mrs。Creeveywillmakeabotanistofyouifyouwilllether，andIfancyaverygoodbotanist，thoughIcannotspeakfromexperience，butshewillmakeapoetofyouinspiteofyourself，asIverywellknow;andshewilldothissimplybygivingyoufirstthefamiliarnameoftheflowersshelovestowriteof。IamnotsayingthattheDay—Lilywouldnotsmellassweetbyhertitleof’HemerocallisFulva’，orthatthehomely，heartyBouncingBetwouldnotkissasdeliciouslyinherscholar’scapandgownof’SaponariaOfficinalis’;butmerelythattheircollegedegreesdonotlendthemselvessowillinglytoverse，orevenmelodiousprose，whichiswhatthepoetisoftenafternowadays。SoI
　　likebesttohailtheflowersbythenamesthatthefairiesgavethem，andthechildrenknowthemby，especiallywhenmylongingforthemmakesthemgrowhereinthecitystreets。IhaveafancythattheywouldallvanishawayifIsalutedtheminbotanicalterms。AslongasItalkofcat—tailrushes，thehomelessgrimalkinsoftheareasandthebackfenceshelpmetoavisionoftheswampsthicklystuddedwiththeirstiffspears;butifIcalledthem’TyphaLatifolia’，oreven’TyphaAngustifolia’，thereisnotthehardiestandfiercestprowleroftheroofandthefire—escapebutwouldflythesoundofmyvoiceandleavemeforlornamidthewitheredfoliageofmydream。Thestreetsparrows，pestiferousandpersistentastheyare，wouldforsakemysylvanpageantifIspokeoftheBird—footVioletasthe’ViolaPedata’;andthecommonestcurwouldrunhowlingifhebeardthegentlePoisonDogwoodmalignedasthe’RhusVenenata’。Theverymilk—canswouldturntotheirnativepumpsindisgustfrommyattempttoinvokeoursimpleAmericanCowslipasthe’DodecatheonMeadia’。
　　IV
　　YetIdonotdenythatsuchscientificnomenclaturehasitsuses;andI
　　shouldbefarfromundervaluingthissideofMrs。Creevey’sbook。Infact，Isecretlyrespectitthemoreforitsbotanicallore，andifeverIgetintothewoodsorfieldsagainImeantogouptosomeofthehumblestflowers，suchasIcanfeelmyselfoneasytermswith，andtellthemwhattheyareinLatin。Ithinkitwillsurprisethem，andIdaresaytheywillsomeofthemlikeit，andwillwanttheirinitialsinscribedontheirleaves，likethosesignatureswhichthemedicinalplantsbear，oraresupposedtobear。ButaslongasIamengagedintheircultureamidthisstoneandironandasphalt，Ifinditbesttoinvitetheirpresencebytheirfamiliarnames，andIhopetheywillnotthinkthemtoofamiliar。Ishouldliketogetthemallnaturalizedhere，sothatthethousandsofpoorcitychildren，whoneversawthemgrowingintheirnativeplaces，mighthavesomenotionofhowbountifullytheworldisequippedwithbeauty，andhowitisgovernedbymanylawswhicharenotenforcedbypolicemen。Ithinkthatwouldinterestthemverymuch，andIshallnotmindtheirpluckingmyBarmecideblossoms，andcarryingthemhomebythearmfuls。Whengood—willcostsnothingweoughttopractiseitevenwiththetramps，andtheseareverywelcome，intheirwanderingsoverthecitypave，toresttheirwearylimbsinanyofmypleachedbowerstheycometo。
　　ACIRCUSINTHESUBURBS
　　Wedwellersincitiesandlargetowns，ifwearewell—to—do，havemorethanourfillofpleasuresofallkinds;andfornowmanyyearspastwehavebeenusedtoaformofcircuswheresurfeitisnearlyasgreatmiseryasfamineinthatkindcouldbe。Foroursins，orsomeofourfriends’sins，perhaps，wehavenowgonesolongtocircusesofthreeringsandtworaised—platformsthatwescarcelyrealizethatinthecountrytherearestillcircusesofoneringandnoplatformatall。
　　Weareaccustomed，inthegrossandfoolish—superfluityofthesecitycircuses，toseenofeatquitethrough，buttoturnourgreedyeyesatthemostimportantinstantinthehopeofgreaterwondersinanotherring。Wehavefourorfiveclowns，inasmanyvarietiesofgrotesquecostume，aswellasaladyclowninbefittingdress;butwehearnoneofthemspeak，noteventheladyclown，whileinthecountrycircustheoldclownofourchildhood，oneandindivisible，makesthesamestyleofjokes，ifnottheverysamejokes，thatweusedtohearthere。Itisnoteasytobelieveallthis，andIdonotknowthatIshouldquitebelieveitmyselfifIhadnotlatelybeenwitnessofitinthesuburbanvillagewhereIwaspassingthesummer。
　　I。
　　Thecircusannounceditselfinthegoodoldwayweeksbeforehandbythevastpostersofformerdaysandbyaprofusionofsmallbillswhichfelluponthevillageasfromtheclouds，andleftitlitteredeverywherewiththeirfestivepink。TheyprophesieditinanamebornebythefirstcircusIeversaw，whichwasalsoananimalshow，buttheanimalsmustallhavediedduringthefiftyyearspast，forthereisnownomenagerieattachedtoit。IdidnotknowthiswhenIheardthebandbrayingthroughthestreetsofthevillageonthemorningoftheperformance，andformethemangyoldcamelsandthepimpledelephantsofyoreledtheprocessionthroughaccompanyingranksofboyswhohavemostlybeenintheirgravesforhalfalifetime;thedistractedostrichthrustanadvertisingneckthroughthetopofitscage，andthelionroaredtohimselfinthedarknessofhismovingprison。Ifelttheoldthrillofexcitement，thevainhopeofsomethingpreternaturalandimpossible，andIdonotknowwhatcouldhavekeptmefromthatcircusassoonasIhaddonelunch。Myheartroseatsightofthelargetent（whichwasyetsoverylittleincomparisonwiththetentsofthethree—ringandtwo—
　　platformcircuses）;thealluringandillusorysideshowsoffatwomenandleanmen;thehorsestetheredinthebackgroundandstampingunderthefly—bites;theold，weather—beatengrandchariot，whichlookedliketheghostofthegrandchariotwhichusedtodragmecaptiveinitstriumph;
　　andthecanvasshelterswherethecookswerealreadyatworkovertheirkettlesontheeveningmealofthecircusfolk。
　　Iexpectedtobekeptalongwhilefromtheticket—wagonbythecrowd，buttherewasnocrowd，andperhapsthereneverusedtobemuchofacrowd。Iboughtmyadmittanceswithoutamoment’sdelay，andthemanwhosoldmemyreserveseatshadevenleisuretocallmebackandasktolookatthechangehehadgivenme，mostlynickels。"IthoughtIdidn’tgiveyouenough，"hesaid，andheaddedonemore，andsentmeontothedoorkeeperwithmyfaithinhumannatureconfirmedandrefreshed。
　　Itwascoolenoughoutside，butwithinitwasverywarm，asitshouldbe，togivethemenwithpalm—leaffansandice—coldlemonadeachance。Theywerealreadymakingtheirrounds，andcryingtheirwareswithvoicesfromthetombsofthedeadpast;andthechildoftheyoungmotherwhotookmyseat—ticketfrommewasgoingtosleepatfulllengthonthelowermosttreadofthebenches，sothatIhadtostepacrossitsprostrateform。
　　Thesereservedseatswerecarpeted;butIhadforgottenhowlittleonerankwasraisedaboveanother，andhowverytryingtheywereuponthebackandlegs。Butforthecarpeting，IcouldnotseehowIwasadvantagedabovethecommonerfolkintheunreservedseats，andI
　　reflectedhowofteninthisworldwepaidforaninappreciablesplendor。
　　IcouldnotseebuttheywereaswelloffasI;theyweremuchmoregaylydressed，andsomeofthemwereevensmokingcigars，whiletheywerenearlyallyoungerbyten，twenty，forty，orfiftyyears，andevenmore。
　　TheydidnotlooklikethecountrypeoplewhomIratherhopedandexpectedtosee，butwereapparentlymyfellow—villagers，indifferentstagesofexcitement。Theymanifestedbytheusualsignstheirimpatiencetohavetheperformancebegin，andIconfessthatIsharedthis，thoughIdidnottakepartinthedemonstration。
　　II。
　　Ihavenointentionoffollowingtheeventsseriatim。FronttimetotimeduringtheirprogressIrenewedmyoldone—sidedacquaintancewiththecircus—men。Theywerequitethesamepeople，Ibelieve，butstrangelysoftenedandameliorated，asIhopeIam，andlookingnotadayolder，whichIcannotsayofmyself，exactly。Thesupernumerarieswerepatentlyfarmerboyswhohadenterednewlyuponthatlifeinaspiritofadventure，andwhoworetheirpartialliveries，abraidedcoathereandapairofstripedtrousersthere，withasortoftimorouspride，adeprecatingbravado，asiftheyexpectedtobehootedbythespectatorsandwereverygladwhentheywerenot。Themanwhowentroundwithadogtokeepboysfromhookinginunderthecurtainhadgrowngentler，andhisdogdidnotlookasifhewouldbitetheworstboyintown。Themancameupandaskedtheyoungmotherabouthersleepingchild，andIinferredthatthechildhadbeensick，andwasthereforeunusuallyinterestingtoallthegreat，kind—hearted，simplecircusfamily。Hewasgoodtothepoorsupes，andinstructedthem，notatallsneeringly，howbesttomanagetheguyropesforthenetswhenthetrapezeeventsbegan。
　　Therewas，infact，anairofpleasingdomesticitydiffusedoverthewholecircus。Thiswas，perhaps，partlyaneffectfromourextremeproximitytoitsperformances;Ihadneverbeenonquitesuchintimatetermswithequitationandaerostationofallkinds;butIthinkitwasalsolargelyfromthegoodheartsofthewholecompany。Acircusmustbecome，duringtheseason，agreatbrotherhoodandsisterhood，especiallysisterhood，anditsmembersmustforgetfinallythattheyarenotunitedbytiesofblood。Idaresaytheyoftenbecomeso，ashusbandsandwivesandfathersandmothers，ifnotasbrothers。
　　ThedomesticeffectwasheightenedalmostpoignantlywhenayoungladyinaTurkish—towelbath—gowncameoutandstoodclosebytheband，waitingforheractonabarebackedhorseofaconventionalpattern。ShereallylookedlikeayounggoddessinaTurkish—towelbath—gown：goddessesmusthavewornbath—gowns，especiallyVenus，whowasoftenimaginedinthebath，orjustoutofit。Butwhenthisgoddessthrewoffherbath—gown，andcameboundingintotheringasgracefullyastheclogssheworeonherslipperswouldlether，shewasmuchmoremodestlydressedthanmostgoddesses。WhatIamtryingtosay，however，isthat，whileshestoodtherebytheband，shenomoreinterestedthemusiciansthanifsheweretheircollectivesister。Theywereallintheirshirt—sleevesforthesakeofthecoolness，andtheybangedandtrumpetedandflutedawayasindifferenttoherassomanybornbrothers。
　　Indeed，whenthegyrationsofherhorsebroughthertooursideofthering，shewasvisiblynotsoyouthfulandnotsodivineasshemighthavebeen;butthegirlwhodidthetrapezeacts，anddidthemwonderfully，leftnothingtobedesiredinthatregard;thoughreallyIdonotseewhywewhohaveneitheryouthnorbeautyshouldalwaysexpectitofotherpeople。Ithinkitwouldhavebeenquiteenoughforhertodothetrapezeactssoperfectly;butherbeingsoprettycertainlyaddedapoignancytothecontemplationofherperils。Onecouldfolloweverymotionofheranxietyinthatcloseproximity：thetremorofherchinasshebitherlipsbeforetakingherflightthroughtheair，thestrainingeagernessofhereyeasshemeasuredthedistance，thefrownwithwhichsheforbadeherselfanyshrinkingorreluctance。
　　III。
　　Howstrangeislife，howsadandperplexingitscontradictions！Whyshouldsuchanexhibitionasthatbesupposedtogivepleasure？Perhapsitdoesnotgivepleasure，butisonlyanecessaryfulfilmentofoneofthemanydelusionsweareinwithregardtoeachotherinthisbewilderingworld。Theyareofallsortsanddegrees，thesedelusions，andIsupposethatinthelastanalysisitwasnotpleasureIgotfromtheclownandhisclowning，clownedheeversomerrily。IrememberthatIlikedhearinghisoldjokes，notbecausetheywerejokes，butbecausetheywereoldandendearedbylongassociation。HesangonesongwhichI
　　musthaveheardhimsingatmyfirstcircus（Iamsureitwashe），about"ThingsthatIdon’tliketosee，"andIheartilyagreedwithhimthathisbookofsongs，whichhesentroundtobesold，wasfullyworththehalf—dimeaskedforit，thoughIdidnotbuyit。
　　Perhapstherivalauthorinmewithheldme，but，asabrotherman，IwillnotallowthatIdidnotfeelforhimandsufferwithhimbecauseofthethick，whitepigmentwhichplentifullycoatedhisface，and，withthesweatdropsuponit，mademethinkofanewlypaintedwallintherain。
　　Hewasinfinitelyolderthanhispersonality，thanhisoldestjoke（thoughyounevercanbesurehowoldajokeis），and，representatively，Idaresayheoutdatedthepyramids。Theymusthavemadeclownswhitentheirfacesinthedawnoftime，andnodoubtthereweredrollsamongtheantediluvianswhoenhancedtheeffectoftheirfunbythatmeans。Allthesame，Ipitiedthisclownforit，andIfanciedinhiswildestwaggerythenoteofarealirascibility。ShallIsaythatheseemedtheonlymemberofthatlittlecircuswhowasnotofanamiabletemper？ButIdonotblamehim，andIthinkitmuchtohaveseenaclownoncemorewhojestedaudiblywiththeringmasterandalwaysgotthebetterofhiminrepartee。ItwaslongsinceIhadknownthatpleasure。
　　IV。
　　ThroughouttheperformanceatthiscircusIwastroubledbyacuriousquestion，whetheritwerereallyofthesamemoralandmaterialgrandeurasthecircusesitbroughttomemory，orwhetherthesewerethinandslight，too。Weallknowhowtheplacesofourchildhood，theheights，thedistances，shrinkanddwindlewhenwegobacktothem，andwasitpossiblethatIhadbeendeceivedinthesplendorofmyearlycircuses？
　　Thedoubtwaspainful，butIwasforcedtoownthattheremightbemoretruthinitthaninablindfealtytotheirrememberedmagnificence。
　　Verylikelycircuseshavegrownnotonlyinsize，butintherichnessandvarietyoftheirentertainments，andIwasspoiledforthesimplejoysofthis。ButIcouldseenoreflectionofmydissatisfactionontheyoungfacesaroundme，andImustconfessthattherewasatleastsomuchofthecircusthatIleftwhenitwashalfover。Imeanttogointotheside—showsandseethefatwomanandthelivingskeleton，andtakethegiantbythehandandthearmlessmanbyhisfriendlyfoot，ifImightbesohonored。ButIdidnoneofthesethings，andIamwillingtobelievethefaultwasinme，ifIwasdisappointedinthecircus。ItwasIwhohadshrunkanddwindled，andnotit。Torealboysitwasstillthesizeofthefirmament，andwasaworldofwondersanddelights。AtleastI
　　canrecognizethisfactnow，andcanrejoiceinthepeacefulprogressalloverthecountryofthesimplecircuseswhichthetownsneversee，butwhichhelptorenderthesummerfairerandbrightertotheunspoiledeyesandheartstheyappealto。Ihopeitwillbelongbeforetheyceasetofindprofitinthepleasuretheygive。
　　ASHEHAMLET
　　TheothernightasIsatbeforethecurtainoftheGardenTheatreandwaitedforittoriseupontheHamletofMme。Bernhardt，athrilloftherichexpectationwhichcannotfailtoprecedetheriseofanycurtainuponanyHamletpassedthroughmyeagerframe。Thereis，indeed，nosceneofdramawhichisofafinerhorror（eighteenth—centuryhorror）
　　thanthatwhichopensthegreattragedy。ThesentrypacingupanddownupontheplatformatElsinoreunderthewinternight;thegreetingbetweenhimandthecomradearrivingtorelievehim，withitshintsofthebittercold;theentranceofHoratioandMarcellustothesebeforetheycanpart;thementionoftheghost，and，whilethesoldiersareintheactofprotestingitaveridicalphantom，theapparitionoftheghost，takingthewordfromtheirlipsandhushingallintoapulselessawe：whatcouldbemoresimplyandsublimelyreal，morenaturallysupernatural？Whatpromiseofhighmysticalthingstocomethereisinthemeresyllablingofthenobleverse，andhowitenlargesusfromourselves，forthattimeatleast，toadisembodiedunitywiththetroubledsoulwhosemartyryseemsforebodedinthesolemnaccents！