372 MORE POT-POURRI 



doing absolutely nothing but chattering to people you 

 have never seen before and will never see again. Without 

 the object of being a companion to those we love I can 

 imagine no greater trial. 



When I could stand the feeling of being surrounded 

 by invalids no longer, I used to get outside the place and 

 walk by the deep-cut cliffs, rather than banks, of the 

 roaring, rushing river. The land was losing all its wild- 

 ness, and was being built over ; but nothing can ever 

 alter those steep-cut sides, which in old days might have 

 been the scene of the following poem : 



By the hoof of the wild goat uptossed 

 From the cliff where she lay in the sun 



Fell the stone 



To the tarn where the daylight is lost 

 So she fell from the light of the sun, 

 And alone. 



Now the fall was ordained from the first 

 With the goat and the cliff and the tarn, 



But the stone 



Knows only her life is accursed 

 As she sinks in the depths of the tarn, 



And alone. 



Oh ! Thou who hast builded the world, 

 Oh ! Thou who hast lighted the sun, 

 Oh ! Thou who hast darkened the tarn, 



Judge Thou 



The sin of the stone that was hurled 

 By the goat from the light of the sun 

 As she sinks in the mire of the tarn 

 Even now even now even now ! 



Beautiful, bright Geneva struck me as hard and ugly 

 after the mellow softness of Florence. I had hoped to 

 have seen many interesting places in the neighbourhood, 

 the homes of those who are familiar to us as our own 

 relatives. Ferney I have never seen, nor Coppet, nor the 



