But all are free to play the game.
Here, welcome as the flow’rs of Spring,
Do what thou wilt.
Each in these halls a place may claim,
And is, if sad, alone to blame.
Kick up thy heels and dance and sing—
To any wild conceit give wing—
Be fool or sage, ’tis all the same—
Do what thou wilt.
That was an amusing tale of the man who complained of injuries resulting from a loaded seegar. He knew when he smoked it that it was a trick weed, and knew that it would explode, but he “didn’t know when.” He reminds us very strongly of a parlor bolshevist.