from the two great glories of our literature. But now, by accident,
he stumbled into "The Tempest"; and after that he read every line of
the plays in two weeks.

He lost his soul in that wonderland; he walked and thought no more
like the men of earth--he dwelt with those lords and princes of the
soul, and learned to speak their language. He would dodge among
cable-cars and trucks with their heavenly melodies in his ears; and
while he sung them his eyes flashed and his heart beat fast:

"Good night, sweet prince,
And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest!"

There were a few days left in those wondrous holidays; and these
went to Milton. There was a set of his works, enormously expensive,
which had been made and purchased with no idea that any human being
would ever read them. But Thyrsis read them, and so all the beauty
of the binding was justified. For hours, and hours upon hours, he
drank in that thunderous music, crying it aloud with his hands
clenched tightly, and stopping to laugh like a child with
excitement:

"Th'imperial ensign, which full high advanced,
Shone like a meteor streaming to the wind,
With gems and golden lustre rich emblazed,
Seraphic arms and trophies; all the while
Sonorous metal blowing martial sounds!"

And afterwards, when he came to the palace that "rose like an
exhalation", all of Thyrsis' soul rose with it. One summer's day he