120 BEHIND THE EYE. 



there are days when some one of them 

 proves too much both for me and for his 

 fellows. It is not the botanist's turn, per- 

 haps ; but he takes his seat at the window, 

 notwithstanding, and the ornithologist and 

 the dreamer must be content to peep at 

 the landscape over his shoulders. 



On such occasions, it may as well be con- 

 fessed, I make but a feeble remonstrance ; 

 and for the sufficient reason that I feel 

 small confidence in my own wisdom. If the 

 flower-lover or the poet must have the hour, 

 then in all likelihood he ought to have it. 

 So much I concede to the nature of things. 

 A strong tendency is a strong argument, 

 and of itself goes far to justify itself. I 

 borrow no trouble on the score of such com- 

 pulsions. On the contrary, my lamenta- 

 tions begin when nobody sues for the place 

 of vision. Such days I have ; blank days, 

 days to be dropped from the calendar; when 

 " those that look out of the windows be 

 darkened." The fault is not with the 

 world, nor with the eye. The old preacher 

 had the right of it ; it is not the windows 

 that are darkened, but " those that look out 

 of the windows." 



