to nurse it.  And she admonished him of his duty to the Gods, which meant sacrifice, which meant merry-making.  And the child grew, and craved food and drink, and Timon possessed himself of three acres and a cow.  And not being able to doubt his child’s affection for him, he came to believe in Timandra’s also.  And when the tax-gatherer oppressed his neighbours, he pleaded their cause, which was also his own, in the courts of Athens, and gained it by the interest of Alcibiades.  And his neighbours made him demarch, and he feasted them.  And Apemantus came to deride him, and Timon bore with him; but he was impertinent to Timandra, and Timon beat him.

And in fine, Timon became very like any other Attic country gentleman, save that he always maintained that a young man did well to be a misanthrope until he got a loving and sensible wife, which, as he observed, could but seldom happen.  And the Gods looked down upon him with complacency, and deferred the ruin of Athens until he should be no more.

II.—­Napoleon’s Sangaree

Napoleon Buonaparte sat in his garden at St. Helena, in the shadow of a fig-tree.  Before him stood a little table, and upon the table stood a glass of sangaree.  The day was hot and drowsy; the sea boomed monotonously on the rocks; the broad fig-leaves stirred not; great flies buzzed heavily in the sultry air.  Napoleon wore a loose linen coat and a broad brimmed planter’s hat, and looked as red as the sangaree, but nowise as comfortable.

“To think,” he said aloud, “that I should end my life here, with nothing to sweeten my destiny but this lump of sugar!”

And he dropped it into the sangaree, and little ripples and beads broke out on the surface of the liquid.

“Thou should’st have followed me,” said a voice.

“Me,” said another.

And a steam from the sangaree rose high over Napoleon’s head, and from it shaped themselves two beautiful female figures.  One was fair and very youthful, with a Phrygian cap on her head, and eager eyes beneath it, and a slender spear in her hand.  The other was somewhat older, and graver, and darker, with serious eyes; and she carried a sword, and wore a helmet, from underneath which her rich brown tresses escaped over her vesture of light steel armour.

“I am Liberty,” said the first.

“I am Loyalty,” said the second.

And Napoleon laid his hand in that of the first spirit, and instantly saw himself as he had been in the days of his youthful victories, only beset with a multitude of people who were offering him a crown, and cheering loudly.  But he thrust it aside, and they cheered ten times more, and fell into each other’s arms, and wept and kissed each other.  And troops of young maidens robed in white danced before him, strewing his way with flowers.  And the debts of the debtor were paid, and the prisoners were released from captivity.