If I can lay my walls as true as he does, if I can build myself a third
part as firmly into any neighbourhood as he has into this, if at seventy
years of age--if ever I live to lay walls with joy at that time of
life--if I can look back upon _my_ foundations, _my_ heaven-pointing
towers, and find no cracks or strains in them, I shall feel that I have
made a great success of my life....

I went out just now: the old man was stooping to lift a heavy stone. His
hat was off and the full spring sunshine struck down warmly upon the
ruddy bald spot on the top of his head, the white hair around about it
looking silvery in that light. As he placed the stone in the wall, he
straightened up and rubbed his stubby hand along it.

"A fine stone that!" said he.



CHAPTER XI


AN AUCTION OF ANTIQUES

"I would not paint a face
Or rocks or streams or trees
Mere semblances of things--
But something more than these."

"I would not play a tune
Upon the sheng or lute