no giants. But he was so fully possessed with a strong conceit of the contrary, that he did not so much as hear his squire's outcry, nor was he sensible of what they were, although he was already very near them; far from that: "Stand, cowards," cried he, as loud as he could; "stand your ground, ignoble creatures, and fly not basely from a single knight, who dares encounter you all!"

At the same time, the wind rising, the mill sails began to move, which, when Don Quixote spied, "Base miscreants," cried he, "though you move more arms than the giant Briareus, you shall pay for your arrogance."

He most devoutly recommended himself to his Lady Dulcinea, imploring her assistance in this perilous adventure; and so covering himself with his shield, and couching his lance, he rushed with Rozinante's utmost speed upon the first windmill he could come at, and running his lance into the sail, the wind whirled it about with such swiftness, that the rapidity of the motion presently broke the lance into shivers, and hurled away both knight and horse along with it, till down he fell, rolling a good way off in the field.

Sancho Panza ran as fast as his ass could drive to help his master, whom he found lying, and not able to stir, such a blow had he and Rozinante received.

"Mercy o' me!" cried Sancho, "did not I give your

worship fair warning? Did I not tell you they were windmills, and that nobody could think otherwise, unless he had also windmills in his head?"

"Peace, friend Sancho," replied Don Quixote; "there is nothing so subject to the inconstancy of fortune as war. I am verily persuaded that necromancer Freston, who carried away my study and my books, has transformed these giants into windmills to deprive me of the honor of the victory; such is his inveterate malice against me; but in the end, all his pernicious wiles and stratagems shall prove ineffectual against the prevailing edge of my sword."

"Amen, say I," replied Sancho.

And so heaving him up again upon his legs, once more the knight mounted poor Rozinante, that was half shoulder-slipped with his fall.

The busy world shoves angrily aside

The man who stands with arms akimbo set,
Until occasion tells him what to do;

And he who waits to have his task marked out

Shall die and leave his errand unfulfilled.

-J. R. Lowell.

THE ROOT OF COURAGE

HAMILTON W. MABIE

There is no real courage unless there is real perception of danger. The man who does not comprehend the perils which surround him, and is therefore calm and collected, is not courageous; he is simply ignorant.

And, in like manner, the unimaginative man, who has no consciousness of danger until he looks straight into its eye, is not courageous; he is dull and sluggish. The highest courage is manifested only by the man who knows what he faces and fully realizes it. To sail over mines of which the ship's master has no knowledge involves no intrepidity; to be able to locate every mine in the channel, and then to pass calmly over, shows the pluck and dash which stir the admiration of the world.

The boy of sluggish temper finds nothing in the blackness of the woods after nightfall, and goes on his way in easy indifference; the boy of quick imagination faces an invisible company of strange creatures, and his quick advance into the mysterious gloom means a victory over himself.

From The Life of the Spirit," by Hamilton W. Mabie. Copyright 1899 by Messrs. Dodd, Mead & Co. Used by permission.

The finer the organization, the clearer the perception of danger and the greater the courage required to face it. The real hero is not the man who is insensible to peril, but he who overcomes a quick sensitiveness to its pres

ence.

Some of the bravest spirits the world has known have shown every evidence of that shrinking of the body which we call fear; but they vanquished the hesitation of the nerves by the decision of the spirit.

To feel keenly the perils of life is not to be cowardly; it is to have adequate knowledge and sensitiveness of mind. The man who does his daily work without thought of the great natural forces which hold him in their grasp, of the grave possibilities of calamity which are never absent from society, of the countless dangers that beset the individual life, may be faithful and honest, but cannot be heroic; for the hero is the man who looks all these perils in the face, and goes quietly on his way to his journey's end.

No man can live in this world with an open mind and an active imagination without constant perception of many kinds of danger; and the more such a man knows and the greater his ability to realize the existence of things which are invisible becomes, the keener will be his perception of the possibilities of risk and loss.

The unsensitive man lives without fear because he

sees no peril in his situation; the sensitive man who is also courageous lives without fear because he sends his thought through all the possibilities of danger to the ultimate safety.

BILLOWS

WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS

Gently, with sweet commotion,
Sweeping the shore,

Billows that break from ocean,
Rush to our feet;

Slaves that, with fond devotion,
Prone to adore,

Seek not to stint with measure,
Service that's meet;-

Bearing their liquid treasure,
Flinging it round,

Shouting the while the pleasure
True service knows,

Then, as if blessed with leisure,
Flung on the yellow ground,

Taking repose.