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rebellion which for the life of me I could not discover myself. Possibly I recited with a certain joyous lilt which was my own, for- his memory was good, and at a second rendering, very often the first, he made a quatrain his own- he recited the same lines and invested them with an unrest and passionate revolt that were well-nigh convincing. ¡¡¡¡I was interested as to which quatrain he would like best, and was not surprised when he hit upon the one born of an instant's irritability and quite at variance with the Persian's complacent philosophy and genial code of life: ¡¡¡¡ What, without asking, hither hurried Whence? ¡¡¡¡ And, without asking, Whither hurried hence! ¡¡¡¡ Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine ¡¡¡¡ Must drown the memory of that insolence! ¡¡¡¡'Great!' Wolf Larsen cried. 'Great! That's the keynote. Insolence! He could not have used a better word.' ¡¡¡¡In vain I objected and denied. He deluged me, overwhelmed me with argument. ¡¡¡¡'It's not the nature of life to be otherwise. Life, when it knows that it must cease living, will always rebel. It cannot help itself. The Preacher found life and the works of life all a vanity and vexation, an evil thing; but death, the ceasing to be able to be vain and vexed, he found an eviler thing. Through chapter after chapter he is