* * * * *

“’Twere long to tell how Boxer
Was countered on the cheek,
And knocked into the middle
Of the ensuing week;
How Barnacles the Freshman
Was asked his name and college,
And how he did the fatal facts
Reluctantly acknowledge.”

Quite different, but better because more difficult, is this essay in Proverbial Philosophy:—­

    “I heard the wild notes of the lark floating far over the blue sky,
    And my foolish heart went after him, and, lo!  I blessed him as he
        rose. 
    Foolish; for far better is the trained boudoir bullfinch,
    Which pipeth the semblance of a tune and mechanically draweth up
        water. 
    For verily, O my daughter, the world is a masquerade,
    And God made thee one thing that thou mightest make thyself
        another. 
    A maiden’s heart is as champagne, ever aspiring and struggling
        upwards,
    And it needed that its motions be checked by the silvered cork of
        Propriety. 
    He that can afford the price, his be the precious treasure,
    Let him drink deeply of its sweetness nor grumble if it tasteth of
        the cork.”

Enoch Arden was published in 1864, and was not enthusiastically received by true lovers of Tennyson, though people who had never read him before thought it wonderfully fine.  A kinsman of mine always contended that the story ended wrongly, and that the really human, and therefore dramatic, conclusion would have been as follows:—­

    “For Philip’s dwelling fronted on the street,
    And Enoch, coming, saw the house a blaze
    Of light, and Annie drinking from a mug—­
    A funny mug, all blue with strange device
    Of birds and waters and a little man. 
    And Philip held a bottle; and a smell
    Of strong tobacco, with a fainter smell—­
    But still a smell, and quite distinct—­of gin
    Was there.  He raised the latch, and stealing by
    The cupboard, where a row of teacups stood,
    Hard by the genial hearth, he paused behind
    The luckless pair, then drawing back his foot—­
    His manly foot, all clad in sailors’ hose—­
    He swung it forth with such a grievous kick
    That Philip in a moment was propelled
    Against his wife, though not his wife; and she
    Fell forwards, smashing saucers, cups, and jug
    Fell in a heap.  All shapeless on the floor
    Philip and Annie and the crockery lay. 
    Then Enoch’s voice accompanied his foot,
    For both were raised, with horrid oath and kick,
    Till constables came in with Miriam Lane
    And bare them all to prison, railing loud. 
    Then Philip was discharged and ran away,
    And Enoch paid a fine for the assault;
    And Annie went to Philip, telling him
    That she would see old Enoch further first
    Before she would acknowledge