In the words of the old-time classical geometer, I have found it; and as he remarked on another occasion (I believe subsequently), 'Give me where to stand, and I will move the Universe.' His precise words, if I recall the original Greek, were _Dos Pou Sto_--and the critical ear will detect a manly--er--self-reliance in the terse monosyllables.

In these days," pursued Mr.Mortimer, setting down the market-basket, unbuttoning his furred overcoat, extracting a green and yellow bandanna from his breastpocket and mopping his heated brow, "in these days we have lost that self-confidence.

We are weary, disillusioned.

We have ceased to expect gold at the rainbow's foot.
Speaking without disrespect to the poet Shelley"-- here he lifted his hat and replaced it--"a new Peneus does _not_ roll his fountains against the morning star, whatever that precise--er--operation may have been.
But let us honour the aspiration, Smiles, though the chill monitor within forbid us to endorse it.

'A loftier Argo'"-- Mr.Mortimer indicated the _Success to Commerce_ with a sweep of the hand-- "A loftier Argo cleaves the main Fraught with a later prize; Another Orpheus--you'll excuse the comparison--sings again, And loves, and weeps--and dies." "Stanislas, you have not forgotten the eggs, I hope ?" interposed the voice of Mrs.