The Pensacola journal. (Pensacola, Fla.) 1898-1985, 1911-12-06
CHAPTER XVIII.

You have read of the delicate polish
ing necessary In making the lens of an
astronomical telescope. A slight va
ration of the surface from the curve
required renders the lens useless.
A perfect lens is a work of art like
the smile of Mona Lisa or a rose. Such
a work of art is Tom West. His equi-
librium is perfect. AS a soap-bubble
when it leaves the pipe, by a divine
law Of nature, becomes a lovely sphere,
some natures by secret instinct
curve perfectly into maturity like a
crowded midnight or a Gala lilly. 1t
seems accidentaI-this blossoming into
perfection, but very many thousand
different choices have been rightly
made to produce this poised health,
this serene balance. The life that
throbs in his veins without q pause,
through woman and man, goes back to
the Beginning Of Consciousness on this
green planet, and he is one of the flow
ers on the tree of life unfolded from
the tallest and most central limb
nourished by the best sap of the or
ganisn.
Look-eayesdrop with me! standing
there is a girl and over the gate her
lover pleads in the twilight; her eyes
are lifted to the star of love in the
daffodil sky and her spirit, exquisitely
sensitive to the promptings Of the gcd
dess who guides the choice of women,
her sensitive spirit listening to his i'm
pasSioned suit, perceiVeS a flaw in the
character of the suitor-tis 500 years
ago-and she chooses a different nus
band and selects a different ancestor
and a higher character for Tom West.
A divinity has presided over his ma
tivity and over the nativity Of his
forefathers, and as the roots Of d CEN
fury plant go into the soil, the tap
root of this young prince of human
beings goes into the nebula from
which our solar system and sustenance
is drawn by him from it.
Without fear that his mission would
fail he might be sent as ambassador to
Olympus and face to face he would
plead his cause to Zeus, man to man,
and the high goddesses, seeing him
walk away, would feel a passing mel
ancholy that he has plighted troth to
another woman and when he is gone
Apollo, inspired, will touch his harp,
singing to God that the ages under
Gods sunshine bear fruit like West.
The curve of his soul is as perfect as
that Of some wide lens which pours
the glow of a new planet in the ken of
gazer at the stars. His nature is
as rich as benediction service in
Rome when the sovereign pontiff turns
the uplifted oStensorium above the
hushed and kneeling congregation. He
is warm hearted, honorable, truthful,
able, manly, noble, charming. Like a
pine tree unbruised by the hack, he
runs q hundred feet into the blue I'M
SCARED, prepared for every hurricane
that struggles with the human soul.
Here, youth, who quickly passes up
the mountain road, I give you my sprig
of lilac. Doubt not, but persist. F'as-
tened around your neck on a chain of
gold, you carry in it's golden case the
heart of Bruce and the unseen powers
of justice and honor guard you against
the precipice and the slipping ice and
snow. Trust yourself! Principalities
and powers of good, like an army
clearing a road for Napoleon, make a
way for you to your valley of the Pc,
and no reYerses will meet you so long
as you remain true to your present
self
AS the light of a tallow candle dis
appears in the light of an arc lamp
and as the moon revolves around the
earth and as Halley's comet revolves
around the sun, prefer to stay away
from Tom West; when he is around