This rich, rank Age--does it breed giants now-- Dantes or Michaels, Raphaels, Shakespeares? Nay! Its culture is of other sort to-day. From the stanch stem (too ready to allow Growths that divide the strength that should endow The one tall trunk) who firmly lops away, With wise reserve, such shoots as lead astray The wasted sap to some collateral bough?
Had Dante chiselled stone, had Angelo Intrigued with courts, had Shakespeare dulled his pen With critic gauge of Chaucer, Drummond, Ben-- What lack there were of that life-giving shade, Which these high-tower'd, centurial oaks have made, Where walk the happy nations to and fro!
The events of the last chapter happened on the night of Friday, July 17, 1874. The following day, Saturday, broke calm, clear, and warm. Elmer awoke early, carefully looked out of a crack in his window curtain, and found that the chimney-builder's room was empty.
"The enemy has flown. I wonder if Alma is up?"
He uncovered a small telegraphic armature and sounder standing on the window-seat, and touched it gently. In an instant there was a response, and Alma replied that she was up and dressed and would soon be down.
She met him in the library, smiling, and apparently happy.
"Oh, Elmer, he has gone away. He left a note on the breakfast table, saying that he had gone to New York, and that he should not return till Monday or Tuesday."
"That's very good; but I think it means mischief."
Just here the breakfast bell rang. The table was set for four, but Alma and Elmer were the only ones who could answer the call, and they sat down to the table alone. They talked of various matters of little consequence, and when the meal was over Elmer announced that as the day was quiet, he should make a little photographing expedition about the neighborhood.
"My visit here is now more than a quarter over, and I wish to take home some photos of the place. Will you not go with me?"
"With all my heart, if I can leave father. But please not talk of going home yet. I hope you will not go till things are settled. We want you, Elmer. You are so wise and strong, and--you know what I mean."
"Perhaps I do. At any rate I'm not going till I have paid up that Belford for his insults."