"Now, this is rather sudden, young man. Give me one day, and I'll give you a list of subjects that would bewilder you! Only promise me you'll take one up."
"All right!" said he; "I promise. Hallo! where are you taking those papers?"
"I'm taking them home for the present. They are confiscated to the Crown."
He looked at them wistfully, as if they were going to the holocaust, as we might imagine the great mother of the Maccabees watched half with pain, half with pride, wholly with resignation, her sons mount the funeral pyre.
"It broke in my fingers and revealed the little dreams and ambitions of nearly forty years ago."
"Never fear," I replied, "they won't go up the chimney. At least, I'll answer for the prose. I'm not so sure about the poetry. Now, good day! I'll keep you to your promise."
And I did, but with what cost to myself. I had to search in the cemeteries of the past for the skeletons of designs, once gladly adopted, then as gladly laid to rest. At last, I found, hidden away amongst episcopal documents, dispensations, etc., a yellow, frayed paper, tied up in string that once was red, but now was white and fragile. It broke in my fingers and revealed the little dreams and ambitions of nearly forty years ago. Need I say they never ripened, or came within even measurable distance of perfection. They were three large quarto sheets, and they were darkened thus:—
A. M. D. G.
Subjects for Articles and Papers to be written, wholly or partially, during the Coming Years.