Tis The Hard Grey Weather Breeds Hard

Toil Is The True Knight's Pastime.

In The Light Of Fuller Day, Of Purer Science, Holier Laws.

I Can Conceive Few Human States More Enviable Than That Of The Man To Whom, Panting In The Foul Laboratory, Or Watching For His Life Under The Tropic Forest, Isis Shall For A Moment Lift Her Sacred Veil, And Show Him, Once And For Ever, The Thing He Dreamed Not Of; Some Law, Or Even Mere Hint Of A Law, Explaining One Fact; But Explaining With It A Thousand More, Connecting Them All With Each Other And With The Mighty Whole, Till Order And Meaning Shoots Through Some Old Chaos Of Scattered Observations.

The Water Babies "young And Old" When All The World Is Young, Lad, And All The Trees Are Green; And Every Goose A Swan, Lad, And Every Lass A Queen; Then Hey For Boot And Horse, Lad, And Round The World Away: Young Blood Must Have Its Course, Lad, And Every Dog His Day.

He Was Not Only, I Soon Discovered, A Water Drinker, But A Strict Vegetarian, To Which, Perhaps, He Owed A Great Deal Of The Almost Preternatural Clearness, Volubility, And Sensitiveness Of Mind.