WE NEVER SPEAK THEIR NAMES. 



ONE may marvel at the terrible downfall of the name 

 ' bug," which started out so bravely, perhaps may even 

 pity it (if pity can extend to a vocable a collocation of 

 sounds more evanescent than a bubble and yet more last- 

 ing than any other of man's works, for what monument 

 endures through ages like the spoken word?), ye.t the 

 wonder must not be as for a freak of nature, a thing that 

 breaks the common rule. For there is but the thickness 

 of a fly's wing between dev-ilish and div-ine, between 

 ' Deus " and " the deuce," between praying and cursing, 

 sacred and execrated. Stop a moment. Close this book 

 and bethink you : What is the holiest thing on earth ? 

 What is the wickedest thing on earth? What blesses and 

 ennobles and purifies mankind and draws it through the 

 centuries nearer and nearer unto God ? What blights 

 and degrades and poisons mankind, body and soul, and 

 drags it down below the level of the brutes? The Fount 

 of Life, the Road to Hell, what is it? It is Love, a thing 

 so precious that the best of men may question if they 

 truly know it. It is Love, a thing so common that the 

 soddenest loafer knows it but too well. It is both sacred 

 and accurst. All our novels and our dramas treat of 



88 



