to make a speech on a platform, "Was Coleridge a genius or a crank?" 

 Eliza, assuming the deep frown of learning which is quite common amongst us nowadays, was upon her in a moment, and said emphatically, "How would you define a genius?"  The Socratic habit of asking for a definition is one that is always adopted during our discussions, and it is generally demanded in the tone of voice in which one says "check" when playing chess. Frances Taylor was quite ready for Eliza, and said, "Genius, I think, is like some star——" 

 "Analogy is not argument!"  Eliza pounced upon her in the voice that said, "I take your pawn." 

 It will be noticed, I fear, that in Stowel we are not altogether original in our arguments—many of them can be traced, alas! to the "Encyclopædia Britannica," and they are not often the outcome of original thought. 

 Frances Taylor's king was once more in check, and she became a little nervous and irritable.  "I do not think we need go into definitions," she said; but Eliza had gone indoors to "look it up."  She returned presently with a dictionary, walking across the lawn towards us with its pages held close to her near-sighted eyes.  "A genius," she began, and then she glanced disparagingly at the title of the book, and said, "according to Webster, that is—but I do not know if we ought to accept him as a final authority—is explained as being 'a peculiar structure of mind which is given by Nature to an individual which qualifies him for a particular employment; a strength of mind, uncommon powers of intellect, particularly the power of invention.'  A crank," she went on, "in its modern meaning, seems hardly to have been known to the writer of this dictionary; the word is rendered literally, as meaning 'a bend or turn.'" 

 "Then I submit," said Miss Taylor, "that Coleridge was a genius." 

 Miss Tracey said in a very sprightly manner—she often astonished us by showing a subtle turn of mind, and a graceful aptitude for epigram which, it was believed, could only have found its proper field in those salons which are now, alas! things of the past—"Let us write him down a genius and a crank! The two"—she advanced her daring view bravely—"the two are often allied."  She had a volume of Coleridge on her bookshelves, and prided herself upon her appreciation—unusual in a woman—of the "Ancient Mariner." 

 "A genius in italics, and a crank followed by a mark of interrogation!" said Eliza in a brilliant fashion; and Miss Taylor, not to be 

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