38 Loves Garland. 
he denounces, too, the elegant Hexasticons 
inscribed on them as meaningless nonsense ; 
and, as to Peter Morwyng’s translation of 
them, he wonders that I can have the auda- 
city to place such before you, deeming it 
far below the standard of the smallest 
school-boy. 
He seems to say :—“ Love’s Garland!” 
Bah! sentimental rubbish! One may handle 
a stone,—it is absolute, real, tangible ; but 
poetry, sentiment, and love! what are they? 
mere idealistic fancies of the brain; you try 
to grasp them—they are gone ! 
To this Brother I reply,— 
My dear dry-as-dust, pachydermatous 
friend, the “arrow” I have shot has failed 
to pierce your unemotional matter-of-fact 
soul; and I beseech you “cudgel your 
brains no more about” this matter, for as- 
suredly “your dull ass will not mend his 
pace with beating.” 
You still ask for the Philosopher’s Stone. 
