Impressions 



rants. I am an ideal explorer, eager for un- 

 limited glory and careful that no danger is run 

 in acquiring it. 



The anticipatory vision of rare furnishings, 

 of pewter platters and brass candlesticks, of 

 Canton china or a cow-skin trunk stuffed with 

 pre-revolutionary documents; all the improba- 

 bilities are ranged in a long panoramic way. 

 Enthusiasm is at flood-tide. The all-powerful 

 arm, against which darkness struggled in vain, 

 is a lantern, and mine is of the most approved 

 pattern; but like the modern repeating rifle, it 

 is possible to fail us at a critical moment, and 

 the marshalled hosts of Pluto prevail against 

 it. In a cellar, obstacles are excellent strate- 

 gists and when the field appears open and 

 marching imobstructed, the unexpected hap- 

 pens. It is no unusual experience of a life-time 

 to have a lantern smashed and is the usual out- 

 come of invading a colonial cellar. In this case 

 I had taken but few steps when the feeble rays 

 that merely accentuated the gloom, met an im- 

 placable foe. The glass that armored the flame 

 was shattered ; the flame itself succumbed and I, 

 like Lord Ullin, "was left lamenting." 



Helplessness is never pleasant. It magnifies 

 99 



