Some Humbugs of Science 135 



down to the river and enjoined it to " Flow 

 gently, sweet Afton," and it flowed. Or, 

 maybe it was the sea, and he ordered it to 

 " Roll on, thou deep and dark blue ocean, 

 roll," and the waves, obedient, kept coming 

 in. In fact, the poet was needlessly busy 

 superintending things. He told the sun to 

 rise, and mountains to stand still, and clouds 

 to float, and zephyrs to blow, and storms to 

 howl, and grass to grow, and flowers to be 

 fragrant, and birds to soar, and rain to fall. 

 Then he used to pump inspiration into him- 

 self at such a rate that you had to believe 

 he had not much of his own. When he 

 wished to write about the way the wind 

 blew on a hill in his neighborhood he would 

 call for his muse, so that all the public heard 

 him. "Come down, O muse," he shrieked ; 

 or, " Approach, O muse;" or, "Arise, O 

 muse ;" for it is a strange thing about her 

 that she was like policemen, in the respect 

 that she was never at hand when wanted. 

 Nowadays when a poet has anything to say, 

 he merely says it, and does not shift the 

 poverty of the saying upon a spirit that 

 hasn't the power to answer, female spirit, 



