elated with his name. In the latter pursuit he was seconded by his wife, who worked in the back garden while he worked in the front. His retirement from office is the subject of the following piece, of the poetical-prose class, which, in point of style, is con- sidered one of the masterpieces of the language :
" Homewards I bend my steps. My fields, my gardens, are choked with weeds : should I not go ? My soul has led a bondsman's life : why should I remain to pine ? But I will waste no grief upon the past ; I will devote my energies to the future. I have not wandered far astray. I feel that I am on the right track once again.
" Lightly, lightly, speeds my boat along, my garments fluttering to the gentle breeze. I inquire my route as I go. I grudge the slowness of the dawning day. From afar I descry my old home, and joyfully press onwards in my haste. The servants rush forth to meet me; my children cluster at the gate. The place is a wilderness; but there is the old pine-tree and my chrysanthemums. I take the little ones by the hand, and pass in. Wine is brought in full jars, and I pour out in brimming cups. I gaze out at my favourite branches. I loll against the window in my new-found freedom. I look at the sweet children on my knee.
" And now I take my pleasure in my garden. There is a gate, but it is rarely opened. I lean on my staff as I wander about or sit down to rest. I raise my head and contemplate the lovely scene. Clouds rise, unwilling, from the bottom of the hills; the weary bird seeks its nest again. Shadows vanish, but still I linger around my lonely pine. Hume once more! I'll have no friend- ships to distract me hence. The times are out of joint for me ; and what have I to seek from men ? In the
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