A Literary Half-Hour. 285 



Great Eastern City — he sees the thick white walls that 

 cast a deeper shadow in the deserted streets and which 

 hide from the gaze of strangers the dark-eyed beauties 

 of Syria. In a few hours the streets will be full of the 

 passionate life of a passionate race and the loud cry of 

 the traffickers will hang echoless in the stifling heat, but 

 now the city is dead and all the tragedy and comedy of 

 to-morrow is lying unborn in the embrace of ' Sleep, 

 silence' child, sweet father of soft rest.' 



There are many drawbacks in this Colony to the com- 

 plete enjoyment of literary pursuits. The houses being 

 all windows and doors there is no such thing as perfe6l 

 seclusion. 



There is no shutting one's self up in a snug library 

 and closing the door against all noise and intrusion. Yet, 

 indeed, this is not always attainable even in the Old 

 Country. We all remember reading of the awful suffer- 

 ings of Carlyle at Cheyne Row owing to painters, 

 carpenters and the * accursed pianoforte next door.' 



I think everyone should have one book as a constant 

 pocket companion. Whenever I go for a day from my 

 abode, I carry a copy of Oliver Wendell Holmes's 

 " Autocrat" or of his *' Professor." They are the most 

 companionable of all books. Open them where you will 

 there is sure to be some quaint thought on the page, 

 some line that will appeal to you and awaken responsive 

 echoes in your mind. 



My small copy of " The Autocrat" always opens in my 

 hand at the same page, through long use. It is at the 

 poem called " Latter-day Warnings," where the writer 

 expresses his ideas of the time when the Millennium will 

 come : — 



