in a flood of sunlight. I am doing with you as an individual what I would have society do for mankind at large—in other words, while I am working for individual expansion upon the raw material I find here, I would have society buckle down to the enlargement of itself by the improvement of those outside of itself."

"If you swim in water as well as you do in verbiage," said the Bibliomaniac, "you must be able to go three or four strokes without sinking."

"Oh, as for that, I can swim like a duck," said the Idiot. "You can't sink me."

"I fancied not," observed Mr. Pedagog, with a smile at his own joke. "You are so light I wonder, indeed, that you don't rise up into space, anyhow."

"What a delightful condition of affairs that suggestion opens up!" said the Idiot, turning to the Poet. "If I were you I'd make a poem on that. Something like this, for instance:

"I am so very, very light

That gravitation curbs not me.

I rise up through the atmosphere

Till all the world I plainly see.

"I dance about among the clouds,

An airy, happy, human kite.

The breezes toss me here and there,

To my exceeding great delight.

"And when I would return to sup,

To breakfast, or perchance to dine,

I haul myself once more to earth

By tugging on a piece of twine."

Mr. Pedagog grinned broadly at this.

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