gutenberg. What ho! lights! lights!" And, shouting as he went, he flung himself down stairs. ‘But this is not to my blame, grandpére. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. Jim is up to the neck in Mahatmas and Theosophy and Higher Thought and rot—writes letters worse than Alice.
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