'she'll see the advantage of heft and conceive of you as laughable, and she'll see the advantage of heft equals the advantage of chirpiness. I've thought it all out, Todd. Rosina likes to laugh, don't she? After seeing you laughable, it ain't likely she'd think of you serious thereafter, is it? No! Because she'd think of how you looked laughable then, would n't she? It stands to reason, and it's well thought out, though I may be a slow man. You can see yourself how she'll laugh.'

Mr. Todd clung to the gate and thought of Rosina's laughter. He beat his mittened fingers on his chest for warmth and for relief of a heart surcharged.

'You've made a dreadful bad mistake there, Berry,' he said at last. 'I ain't going to be sarcastic, I'm a man that thinks of other folks' feelings, I am. But that's a foolish plan. My land, it's a shallow one!'

'What's the matter with it?' asked Mr. Berry angrily.

'Make me laughable it would. But the idea of your not seeing it would make you laughable too! Ho, ho! Picture yourself doing such a scan❜lous thing, do, now! How do you look? Rosina'd laugh us both to scorn.'

'It's so!' said Mr. Berry weakly. 'She would so!'

'Lucky for you I stopped you, Berry.' 'Maybe it is, Todd. But what'll I do? What else'll I do?'

Mr. Todd stretched his mitten toward Mr. Berry, and his voice trembled.

'You're a shallow man, Berry. If I must help you out, I must, though it goes against the grain. You don't see the real points of heft. It's like this. A light-weighted man like me has to have smartness, and I have it; but in hefty men like you a woman looks for forwardness, and you ain't got it. There's a fact and there's the trouble with you.

'Well, when she wa' n't looking — well I'd grip her sudden and hold on. She might wriggle; she might say, "Le' go!" She might; I don't deny it's woman's nature to speak out against man's forwardness. And yet she will have forwardness in a hefty man.'

"There's pins in her belting,' said Mr. Berry after a long silence.

'Oh, if you ain't got forwardness!' sneered Mr. Todd.

'I have too got forwardness!'

Mr. Berry opened the gate and walked on heavily in the snow. Mr. Todd followed, his beard bristling out over his muffler, and above his beard his sharply pointed nose.

'You might be friendly, Berry,' said Mr. Todd, 'seeing what I've done for you.'

'I'm friendly, Todd, but I ain't going to distract my mind.'

II

Rosina Rippon was a strong, plump, fair, round-eyed woman, breezy and joyful, whose single condition was not easily explained, unless by her upwelling sense of the ludicrousness of lovers. One by one they had fallen before her

laughter, drawn in the horns of vanity, and gone their ways. Only Mr. Berry and Mr. Todd persisted: Mr. Berry because of a certain unchanging continuance in his nature, Mr. Todd because of a certain faith he had in the victory of intelligence. Their rivalry had become a habit, with boundaries and customs, such as the claim of Mr. Todd to Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights, of Mr. Berry to Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday nights. Mr. Todd sometimes encroached. Mr. Berry had never objected. He had never encroached himself, before the cold December night when they stood together on Rosina's porch, and Mr. Todd knocked at the door and kicked impatient feet, and Mr. Berry concentrated his mind.

'It's not your night, Mr. Berry! Ha! ha!' Rosina laughed in the doorway; 'it's Mr. Todd's. Come in, both of you.'

The fire burned cosily in the round stove. White-and-blue teacups stood in their saucers on the table beside the sofa; the sofa was between the stove and a door which led through a passageway into the kitchen. Mr. Todd undid his muffler, showing a clever peaked face, and chatted sociably with Rosina. He sat on the sofa, Mr. Berry on the other side of the stove, buried in gloomy thought.

'Why don't you say something, Mr. Berry?' said Rosina at last.

'Berry ain't got any confidence,' said Mr. Todd pleasantly. 'It's laughable in a man of his size, and shows a feeble spirit. He's timid, and that's a sorry sight in a hefty man.'

'What's he afraid of?' asked Rosina. 'Afraid he might do something unbecoming.'

'Nonsense!' laughed Rosina.

'So I tell him. And yet a feeble spirit can't be heartened.'

'You le' me alone,' growled Mr. Berry.

"The more heft of bone a man has the more laughable he shows,' went on Mr. Todd thoughtfully, 'if his spirit's feeble; and a feebler spirit than Berry's I never saw.'

'No gumption?' said Rosina.
'Not a bit!'

Mr. Berry glared at Mr. Todd. 'I don't believe it!' laughed Rosina. 'It's too bad!'

She went into the passage which led to the kitchen, to get hot water for the tea. Mr. Berry listened to her steps in the passage, then rose, and with sinister tread approached Mr. Todd, who slid deftly behind the sofa.

'I was putting heart into you, Berry,' he pleaded. 'Can't you see a thing?' 'You called me a feeble spirit,' said Mr. Berry hoarsely.

'She's in the kitchen now, Berry,' Mr. Todd whispered. 'She'll be coming through the passage; now's the time. Perk up, Berry!'

Mr. Berry hesitated. Mr. Todd stepped behind and pushed him.

'You get back of the kitchen door.' 'Le' me alone!'

Mr.

'Forwardness, Berry! Forwardness! Hefty men's got to have it.' Todd was breathless with pushing.

Mr. Berry, slowly yielding, disappeared in the dark passage, and Mr. Todd sat down on a sofa by the door, panting. He heard the heavy breathing of Mr. Berry in the passage, and the sounds of Rosina's industry in the kitchen. He rubbed his knuckles and beat his feet on the carpet. His mouth worked, his beard bristled forward. He leaned his head on one side, hearkened, and smiled. The wooden clock on the mantel behind the stove ticked monotonously, mocking his impatience. He heard the sound of Rosina's steps in the passage. He sprang to his feet.

There was a shriek, a trampling, and Rosina entered in the air, not projected, but held aloft. Mr. Berry's

'whereas hooks and eyes, or buttons, or provided it was safety-pins, there ain't any harm in them, but those with points discourage a man's spirit when he's feeling forward as a hefty man should — '

ry's steps creaked steadily away on the wheel-hardened snow.

She looked at the spot below her, where the snow was flattened — where Mr. Todd had resisted and contrived while Mr. Berry had rubbed his face

-'and yet being laughed at, nor hot tea, ain't the equal of pins in the belting to discourage the spirit and take the edge of man's intentions like a nail in a log.'

'Oh, go away!' sighed Rosina.

'So if it ain't more'n reasonable, if you'd take the pins out of the belting, I guess I could get along hereafter.'

And Mr. Berry departed soberly. Rosina stood reflecting a moment, then went to the door, opened it, and stood on the step. The night air was biting. The snow sparkled in the starlight. Far away to the right she could see the retreating form of Mr. Todd, as he passed from glimmer to glimmer of lit windows that were close to the street. To the left there were no lit windows, and the white road sloped toward the distant bridge. Mr. Ber

again.

Mr. Todd and Mr. Berry each heard her. Each paused a moment, shook his head doubtfully, and went on.

Rosina turned back into the house. She poured out the remaining tea into a blue-and-white teacup.

'I never was hoisted before!' she thought, sipping the tea and sighing. The wooden clock on the mantelpiece ticked monotonously. Suddenly it struck nine. By the way!' it seemed to say, and struck nine.

Now, in the distance without, she heard Mr. Berry's vast far shout and following cry, vague and patheticthe roar, then the high, melancholy wail.

'Arash-ho'o'e!'

'Berry!' she thought; 'he's sneezing on the bridge;' and sighed again, and sipped her tea. 'It would be convenient to hark for, when he came home to meals,' she thought. 'I guess I'll see about the pins.'

'Berry!' thought Mr. Todd at the other end of the village. 'He's sneezing on the bridge.'

THE news of Professor William James's death overwhelmed with deep sorrow the large circle of his friends and colleagues in every land, and the still larger circle of those who without knowing him had felt for him a sense of personal affection. But the grief at the loss of this warm-hearted friend and charming companion, this inspiring teacher and courageous advocate of justice, must soon have allowed room for the thought of what a noble and useful life he had led, and for gratitude that his frank, straightforward ways had made it possible to think of him as still animating the varied scenes with which he was identified so closely. He was so eager, so soldierly in spirit; his philosophy had so little of what he used to call 'the Dead-Sea-apple flavor,' that it will be a lasting pleasure to think how he would act if present; what humorous, generous, illuminating, or indignant utterance he would bring forth.

Those who knew him personally think of him most easily as he appeared in private life, and indeed it was easy to forget so simple were his tastes and so unaffected his manner that he was a great man and lived also in the eye of the world.

Surrounded at home by all that he really cared for, family, friends, books, everything except robust health,

he did not seek the fame that found him. Yet he prized the honors that had come to him so abundantly, although mainly because of the assurance which they brought him that he had done

and was doing the best work he was qualified to do.1

I well remember the earnestness with which he said to me, two years ago, that the results he had achieved were, in kind, just those he had aspired to achieve; that he had asked no more than to succeed - by dint of personal weight and by striking a note appropriate to his day and time-in accentuating certain tendencies in the minds of thinking men which he believed to be wholesome and of vital significance.

He

James's ideals were generous. cared less to see his private views prevail than to see philosophy counting as a real influence in men's lives. He longed to see the day when the advocates of a philosophic doctrine should recognize that the best warrant for its value lay, not in their ability to defend its claims against all comers, but in its power to inspire them with a desire for ever-increasing knowledge, greater liberality, a more courageous life. His attitude was at once an appeal against indifferentism, and for the recognition of a common meeting-ground of all philosophic tendencies of thought. In this sense pragmatism was a move toward mediation and conciliation, and this was one of the main interests of his own life.

James's foreign colleagues were quick

1 He was a member of the National Academies of America, France, Italy. Prussia, and Denmark; and was Doctor of Letters of Padua and Dur

ham, a Doctor of Laws of Harvard, Princeton,

and Edinburgh, and a Doctor of Science of Geneva and Oxford.

to note this tendency and promise of the new-world thinker's work. The distinguished historian, Guglielmo Ferrero, has written eloquently, in a letter to the Figaro of September 22, of results already won among the philosophers of the Continent by this refreshing breath: 'Neither in Europe nor in America will men soon forget the simple, modest courage with which this student of philosophy proclaimed that men have need, not alone of philosophic and scientific truths, but also of peace, happiness, moral balance and serenity, and declared that no philosophic doctrine can be considered adequate, however solid its logical foundations, unless it satisfies the aspirations that lie deep within the mind.'

Many of his papers and addresses, though not strictly popular in tone and matter, were purposely kept free from needless technicalities, and so carried a wide appeal. People of all sorts found that through one or another of his writings, and equally through the impression of the writer, that went with them, they got something which made. them do their own work better and led them to adopt a broader, a more considerate, and a kindlier view of life.

He, in his turn, was always eager to show sympathy and to notice signs of merit. Biography, and especially autobiography, was his favorite reading, but his search for noteworthy personal chronicle was by no means confined to the lives of famous men. His Religious Experiences will testify that he was fond of discovering and making known all outspoken lovers of the truth, especially if obscure. He went about like a herald or torch-bearer, among those who seemed to him deserving of recognition or in need of stimulation, as if calling to them, 'If you have anything to say on which you are willing to stake yourselves, follow me and I will help you to get heard.' This habit

sometimes brought him into queer company and exposed him to many jests. He was not, however, greatly disturbed by this, thinking more of the chance that he might find some grains of intellectual or moral wheat which would otherwise have remained unfound. With all the warmth of a very warm nature, he tried to bring it about that every one whose needs he knew should be given the opportunity to set himself free, to choose for himself, to develop on his own lines.

This sense of the value of individuality in thought and act, which lay so deep in his heart and was woven into the texture of his thoughts, was chosen by him as the theme of his speech on the reception of his degree of LL.D. from Harvard University in 1903. He spoke as one who, in spite of his long contact with the university, had always looked on it somewhat from without. So he could clearly see, he said, 'two Harvards.' One of these had certain special educational functions, and served, also, in a very visible way, as a sort of social club. The other was the inner, spiritual Harvard. . . . The true Church was always the invisible Church. The true Harvard is the invisible Harvard in the souls of her more truth-seeking and independent and often very solitary sons. The university most worthy of imitation is that one in which your lonely thinker can feel himself least lonely, most positively furthered and most rightly fed.' In this respect he believed that Harvard 'still is in the van.'

James's love of personal liberty made him always ready to break a lance in its defense, even when in so doing he incurred the displeasure of many a respected friend and colleague. He came forward, unasked, as an advocate of those who wished to keep the privilege of consulting Christian Scientists and other irregular practitioners, when