Why should all the birds of the air conspire against me? My
concern is with the sad Human Species, with lapsed and erroneous
Humanity, not with that inconsiderate, wandering, feather-headed
race.




_High Life_


Although that immense Country House was empty and for sale, and
I had got an order to view it, I needed all my courage to walk
through the lordly gates, and up the avenue, and then to ring
the door-bell. And when I was ushered in, and the shutters were
removed to let the daylight into those vast apartments, I
sneaked through them, cursing the dishonest curiosity which had
brought me into a place where I had no business. But I was
treated with such deference, and so plainly regarded as a
possible purchaser, that I soon began to believe in the opulence
imputed to me. From all the novels describing the mysterious and
glittering life of the Great which I had read (and I had read
many), there came to me the enchanting vision of my own
existence in this Palace. I filled the vast spaces with the
shine of jewels and stir of voices; I saw a vision of ladies
sweeping in their tiaras down the splendid stairs.

But my Soul, in her swell of pride, soon outgrew these paltry
limits, O no! Never could I box up and house and localize under