THE "ANTI" AND THE FLY
The fly upon the Cartwheel
Thought he made all the Sound;
He thought he made the Cart go on—
And made the wheels go round.
The Fly upon the Cartwheel
Has won undying fame
For Conceit that was colossal,
And Ignorance the same.
But to-day he has a Rival
As we roll down History's Track—
For the "Anti" on the Cartwheel
Thinks she makes the Wheels go back!
THE BARREL
I was walking, peacefully enough, along a plain ordinary road, when I lifted my head and observed an impressive gateway. The pillars were of stone, high, carven, massive; mighty gates of wrought iron hung between them, the gray wall stretched away on either side.
As the gates were open and there was no prohibitory sign, I entered, and for easy miles walked on; under the springing arches of tall elms, flat roofs of beech, and level fans of fir and pine; through woodland, park and meadow, with glimpses of starred lily-ponds, blue lakelets, and bright brooks; seeing the dappled deer, the swans and pheasants—a glorious place indeed.
Then a smooth turn, and across velvet lawns and statued gardens I saw a towering palace, so nobly beautiful, so majestic, I took off my hat involuntarily. Approaching it I was met by courteous servingmen; told that it was open to visitors; and shown from hall to hall, from floor to floor; where every object was a work of art; where line, color and proportion, perfect architecture and fitting decoration made an overwhelming beauty.
"Whose it is?" I inquired. "Some Duke?—King?—Emperor? Who owns this palace?—this glorious estate?"
They bowed and offered to lead me to him.