4H MORE POT-POURRI 



softly and silently, stealing up without observation ; and'at 

 first we laugh at his pretty face, which is the face of a 

 merry earthly child but his hands, when we take them, 

 grasp like hands of iron, and his strength is the strength 

 of a giant, and his heart is as the heart of a tyrant. And 

 he gives us to drink of a cup in which sweet is mingled 

 with bitter ; and the sweet too often is soon forgotten, 

 while the taste of the bitter remains. And we hardly 

 know whether to bless him or curse him, for he has 

 changed all things ; and we cannot tell whether to weep 

 for the old world we have lost, or shout for joy at the new 

 world we have found. Such is love for the great majority ; 

 a matter terrestrial rather than celestial, and of doubtful 

 happiness after all.' 



Mr. Mallock in one of his clever novels takes the 

 matter further in a way that may console those who 

 suffer from what appears such a wasted experience : ' A 

 serious passion is a great educator. But its work only 

 begins when the pain it causes has left us. Strong 

 present feeling narrows our sympathies ; strong past 

 feeling enlarges them. Thus a woman of the world 

 always should have been, but should not be, in love. 

 She should always have had a grief ; she should never 

 have a grievance.' 



How true it is, even with the commonplace, glorified 

 at the moment by their suffering : ' On a tant d'ame pour 

 souffrir et si peu d'esprit pour le dire ' ! 



While on this subject, for the sake of those who have 

 not the pleasure of knowing Mr. Wilfred Blunt's poems 

 I quote three of his sonnets. First, because I think them 

 beautiful ; and secondly, because they strike a note, very 

 well recognised by those who have a knowledge of human 

 nature, of the danger of too great suppression in youth. 

 And I hold the sonnets up as a looking-glass to some, and 

 those by no means the worst, that they may recognise 



