there is nothing with which one can compare it.

Boswell's house is falling to dust. No matter! His memorial will last as
long as the English speech is spoken and as long as men love the immortal
things of which it is the vehicle.




ON SEEING OURSELVES


A friend of mine who is intimate enough with me to guess my secrets, said
to me quizzingly the other day: "Do you know 'Alpha of the Plough?'"

"I have never seen the man," I said promptly and unblushingly. He laughed
and I laughed.

"What, never?" he said.

"Never," I said. "What's more, I never shall see him."

"What, not in the looking-glass?" said he.

"That's not 'Alpha of the Plough,'" I answered. "That is only his
counterfeit. It may be a good counterfeit, but it's not the man. The man I
shall never see. I can see bits of him--his hands, his feet, his arms, and
so on. By shutting one eye I can see something of the shape of his nose. By
thrusting out the upper lip I can see that the fellow wears a moustache.
But his face, as a whole, is hidden from me. I cannot tell you even with