The sun., 1903-07-25

son, 'Godspesdp TO place Hester Stehbins's q
hand In his. and bid them forth to the sun
rise, into the glory OF the dayl'
Wace had been Kempton's ardent dsci-
pie. but his answer shows that in the pur-
suit OF science ne had abandoned the poetic
attitude. He says such things as 4Poesy
and economics! Alack! alack!' and. after
all, marriage 10 the way Of the world Con-
sidered biologioally it is an institution
necessary for the perpstuation Of the
species"
He describes Hester Stebbins in what
we must consider 10 be beautiful soien-
tiRc manner. We read: How shall I
describe herr Perhaps as George Eliot,
fused with an Elizabeth Barrett. with hint
OF Huxley and trace Of Keats. may
say she ia something like all this, but /
must say she is something other and differ
ent. There il about her a certain light
sonneness, a glow or fash almost Latin or
Oriental, or perhaps Celtic Yes, that
must be it--Celtio, But the high -stomached
Norman is there and the stubborn Saxon
Her quickness and fine audacity are checked
and poised, as it were, by that certain con =.
servatism which gives stability to purpose
and power to achievement She Is un-
afraid and wide-looking and far-look king,
but she is not overlooking. The Saxon
grapples with the Celt, and the Norman
forces the twain to do what the one would
not dream OF doing and what the other
would dream beyond and never do. Do
you catch me?"
Kempton did catch him. His poet 3
heart was panied. He apprehended that
Wace did not love Hester. and wrote to him
to that effect. Tell me. do you still read
your Wordsworth on your knees?" he in
quired OF WAGE. and WAGE answered: "No,
| do not read my Wordsworth ON my knees
My mind ID filed with other things. Ihave
not the time"
Wacs became dreadful from the stand
point Of poet, and we are not sure that
he was not dreadful absolutely We have
our opinion OF what he said about the walk
ing delegate. He wrote: I'VE have no
poets these days, and perforce we are sing
ing with our hands. The walking dele
gate is a greater singer and finer singer
than you, Dane kempton Ne wen, on to
praise the cold political economist and the
carpenter at his bench and the blacksmith
at his forge-everybody except the poets
He submitted that the socialist agtator
hustled by the police on a street corr er
amid the ieers Of the mob, had caught the
romance Of the day. and that his blind
friend the poet had missed II. He knows
life and is living" he said mpleasantly.
Are you living, Dane Kempton?"
The letters 60 on to $50 pages, Dane urg-
;N hn aiI
urging cold science and a good deal Of so
ciology. Says Dane: More beautiful than
starlight is the face of the lover when the
Voice and the Vision enfold him. The race
Is consecrated to the worship Of idea, and
the lover who lays his all on the altar of
romance (which is idea) is at one with the
race. The arms OF the unloved girl close
about the formless air, and more real than
her loneliness and her sorrow ia the huag-
ined embrace, the awaited warm, close
pressure Of the hands, the fapcied gaze
Says WAGE, in effect: No, am not in love.
I am thankful that l am not. l have de-
cided to call my book 4The Economic Man y
When go to see,Hester, as do occasionally,
1 am pretty cool about it. l do not look
al my watch every other minute in the
train on the way. | am unaware Of the
slightest hurry to reach my destination.
When finally, and in due time, see
Hester waiting for me on the veranda,
my heart does not leap az though it
were going to part company with me.
see the curved lips and outstretched
arms and all that, but gracious what
was to have been expected? No, she
is a comely young woman, with health
and strength. and she will make a charming
wife and excellent mother. Concerning my
book. "The Economic Man" and so forth.
Now, Hester was also scientific. She
was studying at Stanford while Herbert
was at Berkeley II is plain, however,
that her scientific nature afforded lodge
ment for some measure Of the idea that
possessed Dane. for she broke with Her
bert, and in a letter from her 10 Dane al
youth here who loves me If Herbert 3
face could shine like his for one hour,
believe I would be happier than I have
ever been And it would not spoil that
happiness if this love were toward another
than myself Say Won believe me. You
must know it OF me that before everything
else in the world pray that knowledge OF
love come to the man over whom the love
OF my girlhood was spilled Do you ask
what is left me. dear friend? Work and
tears and the intact dream Believe me,
am not pitiable,"
Our own opinion Is that Herbert was
ridiculous and that the poet wins
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