crippled, half-frozen creature, that four-shillings would make
him happy. Happiness! the fabled treasure of some far-away
heaven I thought it that afternoon; not to be bought with gold,
not of this earth!

I said something to this effect. But four shillings a day was
enough for the boot-black.

"Why," he said, "I should be as 'appy as the Lord Mayor!"




_The Burden_


I know too much; I have stuffed too many of the facts of History
and Science into my intellectuals. My eyes have grown dim over
books; believing in geological periods, cave-dwellers, Chinese
Dynasties, and the fixed stars has prematurely aged me.

Why am I to blame for all that is wrong in the world? I didn't
invent Sin and Hate and Slaughter. Who made it my duty anyhow
to administer the Universe, and keep the planets to their
Copernican courses? My shoulders are bent beneath the weight
of the firmament; I grow weary of propping up, like Atlas,
this vast and erroneous Cosmos.