ON THE MANUSCRIPTS OF GOD 



under consideration are mouldy bread and 

 cake, cream belated of its skimming and 

 garments mildewed by exposure to damp 

 sunless weather. Yet on these seemingly un- 

 attractive objects one sometimes finds a col- 

 lection of richly tinted spots which stir all 

 the founts of wonder. 



Perhaps freckles, which are beautifully 

 duplicated on a conch shell, should also be 

 included in our inventory. And this famil- 

 iar variation of the polka dot we certainly 

 would not have abolished from the sun- 

 kissed face of any boy who wears them. 

 With him the freckle is a heaven-conferred 

 badge of wholesome, hatless living, and not 

 without a sigh can one see his freckles fade 

 into the common monotone of a grown-up 

 complexion. 



Knowing the innumerable artistic wiles 

 with which nature works from a single start- 

 ing point, one is tempted to a farther sus- 

 picion. Are her fields of grass, dotted with 

 daisies, and the star-studded heavens them- 

 selves, only more of her superlative triumphs 

 with polka dots? 



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