bullied and abashed by words. And after all, why not let oneself
be dazzled and enchanted? Are not Illusions pleasant, and is
this a world in which Romance hangs on every tree?

And how about your own life? Is that, then, so full of golden
visions?




_Companions_


Dearest, prettiest, and sweetest of my retinue, who gather
with delicate industry bits of silk and down from the bleak
world to make the soft nest of my fatuous repose; who ever
whisper honied words in my ear, or trip before me holding up
deceiving mirrors--is it Hope, or is it not rather Vanity,
that I love the best?




_Edification_


"I must really improve my Mind," I tell myself, and once more
begin to patch and repair that crazy structure. So I toil and
toil on at the vain task of edification, though the wind tears
off the tiles, the floors give way, the ceilings fall, strange