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es； the woman by her inborn craving towards motherhood。〃
The thin； white hands of the Old Maid fluttered； troubled； where they lay upon her lap。 〃Why should we seek to explain away all the beautiful things of life？〃 she said。 She spoke with a heat unusual to her。 〃The blushing lad； so timid； so devotional； worshipping as at the shrine of some mystic saint； the young girl moving spell… bound among dreams！ They think of nothing but of one another。〃
〃Tracing a mountain stream to its sombre source need not mar its music for us as it murmurs through the valley；〃 expounded the Philosopher。 〃The hidden law of our being feeds each leaf of our life as sap runs through the tree。 The transient blossom； the ripened fruit； is but its changing outward form。〃
〃I hate going to the roots of things；〃 said the Woman of the World。 〃Poor； dear papa was so fond of doing that。 He would explain to us the genesis of oysters just when we were enjoying them。 Poor mamma could never bring herself to touch them after that。 While in the middle of dessert he would stop to argue with my Uncle Paul whether pig's blood or bullock's was the best for grape vines。 I remember the year before Emily came out her favourite pony died； I have never known her so cut up about anything before or since。 She asked papa if he would mind her having the poor creature buried in the garden。 Her idea was that she would visit now and then its grave and weep awhile。 Papa was awfully nice about it and stroked her hair。 'Certainly； my dear；' he said； 'we will have him laid to rest in the new strawberry bed。' Just then old Pardoe； the head gardener； came up to us and touched his hat。 'Well； I was just going to inquire of Miss Emily；' he said； 'if she wouldn't rather have the poor thing buried under one of the nectarine…trees。 They ain't been doing very well of late。' He said it was a pretty spot； and that he would put up a sort of stone。 Poor Emily didn't seem to care much where the animal was buried by that time； so we left them arguing the question。 I forget how it was settled； but I know we neither of us ate either strawberries or nectarines for the next two years。〃
〃There is a time for everything；〃 agreed the Philosopher。 〃With the lover； penning poetry to the wondrous red and white upon his mistress' cheek； we do not discuss the subject of pigment in the blood； its cause and probable duration。 Nevertheless； the subject is interesting。〃
〃We men and women；〃 continued the Minor Poet； 〃we are Nature's favourites； her hope； for whom she has made sacrifice； putting aside so many of her own convictions； telling herself she is old… fashioned。 She has let us go from her to the strange school where they laugh at all her notions。 We have learnt new； strange ideas that bewilder the good dame。 Yet； returning home it is curious to notice how little； in the few essential things of life； we differ from her other children； who have never wandered from her side。 Our vocabulary has been extended and elaborated； yet face to face with the realities of existence it is unavailing。 Clasping the living； standing beside the dead； our language still is but a cry。 Our wants have grown more complicated； the ten…course banquet； with all that it involves； has substituted itself for the handful of fruits and nuts gathered without labour； the stalled ox and a world of trouble for the dinner of herbs and leisure therewith。 Are we so far removed thereby above our little brother； who； having swallowed his simple； succulent worm； mounts a neighbouring twig and with easy digestion carols thanks to God？ The square brick box about which we move； hampered at every step by wooden lumber； decked with many rags and strips of coloured paper； cumbered with odds and ends of melted flint and moulded clay； has replaced the cheap； convenient cave。 We clothe ourselves in the skins of other animals instead of allowing our own to develop into a natural protection。 We hang about us bits of stone and metal； but underneath it all we are little two…legged animals； struggling with the rest to live and breed。 Beneath each hedgerow in the springtime we can read our own romances in the makingthe first faint stirring of the blood； the roving eye； the sudden marvellous discovery of the indispensable She； the wooing； the denial； hope； coquetry； despair； contention； rivalry； hate； jealousy； love； bitterness； victory； and death。 Our comedies； our tragedies； are being played upon each blade of grass。 In fur and feather we run epitomised。〃
〃I know；〃 said the Woman of the World； 〃I have heard it all so often。 It is nonsense； I can prove it to you。〃
〃That is easy；〃 observed the Philosopher。 〃The Sermon on the Mount itself has been proved nonsenseamong others； by a bishop。 Nonsense is the reverse side of the patternthe tangled ends of the thread that Wisdom weaves。〃
〃There was a Miss Askew at the College；〃 said the Girton Girl。 〃She agreed with every one。 With Marx she was a Socialist； with Carlyle a believer in benevolent despotism； with Spinoza a materialist； with Newman a fanatic。 I had a long talk with her before she left； and tried to understand her； she was an interesting girl。 'I think；' she said； 'I could choose among them if only they would answer one another。 But they don't。 They won't listen to one another。 They only repeat their own case。'〃
〃There never is an answer；〃 explained the Philosopher。 〃The kernel of every sincere opinion is truth。 This life contains only the questionsthe solutions to be published in a future issue。〃
〃She was a curious sort of young woman；〃 smiled the Girton Girl； 〃we used to laugh at her。〃
〃I can quite believe it；〃 commented the Philosopher。
〃It is so like shopping；〃 said the Old Maid。
〃Like shopping！〃 exclaimed the Girton Girl。
The Old Maid blushed。 〃I was merely thinking；〃 she said。 〃It sounds foolish。 The idea occurred to me。〃
〃You were thinking of the difficulty of choosing？〃 I suggested。
〃Yes；〃 answered the Old Maid。 〃They will show you so many different things； one is quite unableat least； I know it is so in my own case。 I get quite angry with myself。 It seems so weak…minded； but I cannot help it。 This very dress I have on now〃
〃It is very charming；〃 said the Woman of the World； 〃in itself。 I have been admiring it。 Though I confess I think you look even better in dark colours。〃
〃You are quite right；〃 replied the Old Maid； 〃myself； I hate it。 But you know how it is。 I seemed to have been all the morning in the shop。 I felt so tired。 If only〃
The Old Maid stopped abruptly。 〃I beg your pardon；〃 she said； 〃I am afraid I've interrupted。〃
〃I am so glad you told us；〃 said the Philosopher。 〃Do you know that seems to me an explanation？〃
〃Of what？〃 asked the Girton Girl。
〃Of how so many of us choose our views；〃 returned the Philosopher； 〃we don't like to come out of the shop without something。〃
〃But you were about to explain；〃 continued the Philosopher； turning to the Woman of the World； 〃to prove a point。〃
〃That I had been talking nonsense；〃 reminded her the Minor Poet； 〃if you are sure it will not weary you。〃
〃Not at all；〃 answered the Woman of the World； 〃it is quite simple。 The gifts of civilisation cannot be the meaningless rubbish you advocates of barbarism would make out。 I remember Uncle Paul's bringing us home a young monkey he had caught in Africa。 With the aid of a few logs we fitted up a sort of stage…tree for this little brother of mine； as I suppose you would call him； in the gun…room。 It was an admirable imitation of the thing to which he and his ancestors must have been for thousands of years accustomed； and for the first two nights he slept perched among its branches。 On the third the little brute turned the poor cat out of its basket and slept on the eiderdown； after which no more tree for him； real or imitation。 At the end of the three months； if we offered him monkey…nuts； he would snatch them from our hand and throw them at our head。 He much preferred gingerbread and weak tea with plenty of sugar； and when we wanted him to leave the kitchen fire and enjoy a run in the garden； we had to carry him out swearingI mean he was swearing； of course。 I quite agree with him。 I much prefer this chair on which I am sittingthis 'wooden lumber；' as you term it to the most comfortable lump of old red sandstone that the best furnished cave could possibly afford； and I am degenerate enough to fancy that I look very nice in this frockmuch nicer than my brothers or sisters to whom it originally belonged： they didn't know how to make the best of it。〃
〃You would look charming anyhow；〃 I murmured with conviction； 〃even… …〃
〃I know what you are going to say；〃 interrupted the Woman of the World； 〃please don't。 It's very shocking； and； besides； I don't agree with you。 I should have had a thick； coarse skin； with hair all over me and nothing by way of a change。〃
〃I am contending；〃 said the Minor Poet； 〃that what we choose to call civilisation has done little beyond pandering to our animal desires。 Your argument confirms my theory。 Your evidence in support of civilisation comes to thisthat it can succeed in tickling the appetites of a monkey。 You need not have gone back so far。 The