then finally seated himself in his old armchair, where, on 
placing his head between his hands, he became more serious; 
his brain became hot, his thoughts livened, and his imagination 
became deeply aroused. Here he began to dream, to think, to 
calculate the past, the present, and the future. Everything 
that he had read came before him, filled his mind with love, 
hate, revenge, intrigues, and conspiracies. 
“A thousand intuitions, instincts, and conceptions seemed 
to crowd his mind at once, which, causing his intellectual fac- 
ulties to reflect and ponder, he went off into a revery, where- 
upon the workings of his mind began to flow, retrospect, and 
psychologize. Hence, he arose from his chair again and said: 
“*T am an intellectual king! For, that the capacity of my 
intelligent soul is animated with deep contemplation, that my 
heart, breast, bosom, and sensory are enraptured in wisdom, 
I am a god of all considerations, abstractions, and specula- 
tions! The invincible, that which is concealed, hidden, is not 
a mystery bfore me, because the undiscernible, the sightless, 
confused, and nebulous, are not veils, screens, and masks for 
me; on the other hand, the blurred, shadowy, clouded, and 
misty, are easily penetrated, seen into with my perceptible 
mind of profound comprehension. 
“‘Behold! I am the king of my garret!” 
ne 
CHILDHOOD LOVE 
Love is a universal passion that controls all animated 
creatures from the microbe to the dinosaurian; the ants, frogs, 
fish, and the birds make love. But, that we should not philoso- 
phize too much on love, that we are to write a short story, 
the few words that we have written, do suffice as an introduc- 
tion that will lead to farther consideration; for, that we are 
going to contemplate the love of childhood, we have laid a 
foundation upon which we will build a structure. 
I was sitting at my window reading the poems of Dun- 
bar, when, suddenly being attracted by the voices of some 
children without, I laid the book on a chair, then, as I rested 
my chin in the palm of my hand, I looked on, being unob- 
served by the indignant youths, for they were angry, very 
angry, being two boys about eight years of age, having the 
external characteristics of culture, two lads who had been 
well raised. Thus, as they continued fussing, I learned their 
names and about whom they were fussing—they being Linso 
and Willie, while the girl was named Kate. 
“Kate does not like you,” said Linso, angry. 
“Why does she not like me?” 
“Recause you are no good. 
51 
