The Sorrows And Disasters Of Europe Always

The Writing Of Solid, Instructive Stuff Fortified By Facts And Figures Is Easy Enough. There Is No Trouble In Writing A Scientific Treatise On The Folk-lore Of Central China, Or A Statistical Enquiry Into The Declining Population Of Prince Edward Island. But To Write Something Out Of One's Own Mind, Worth Reading For Its Own Sake, Is An Arduous Contrivance Only To Be Achieved In Fortunate Moments, Few And Far In Between. Personally, I Would Sooner Have Written Alice In Wonderland Than The Whole Encyclopedia Britannica.

All Our Yesterdays, It Is True, Have Only Lighted Fools The Way To Dusty Death. But We Need At Least The Dates Of The Yesterdays And The List Of The Fools.

All Dickens's Humour Couldn't Save Dickens, Save Him From His Overcrowded Life, Its Sordid And Neurotic Central Tragedy And Its Premature Collapse. But Dickens's Humour, And All Such Humour, Has Saved Or At Least Greatly Served The World.

You Frequently Ask, Where Are The Friends Of Your Childhood, And Urge That They Shall Be Brought Back To You. As Far As I Am Able To Learn, Those Of Your Friends Who Are Not In Jail Are Still Right There In Your Native Village. You Point Out That They Were Wont To Share Your Gambols, If So, You Are Certainly Entitled To Have Theirs Now.

Presently I Shall Be Introduced As 'this Venerable Old Gentleman' And The Axe Will Fall When They Raise Me To The Degree Of 'grand Old Man'. That Means On Our Continent Any One With Snow-white Hair Who Has Kept Out Of Jail Till Eighty.