| The first excerpt represents the past or something you must release, and is drawn from The Sportsman by Xenophon: or = {tois suggrammasi} (sc. my(?) compositions; so {auta}, S. 7
below, {ou gar dokein auta boulomai k.t.l.}) (e.g. "since it will
be easy offhand to find fault with them incorrectly") [or if {ta
me orthos}, "what is incorrect in them"]. I append the three
translations of Gail, Lenz, and Talbot. "Je sais combien il est
avantageux de presenter des ouvrages methodiquement ecrits; aussi
par le meme sera-t-il plus facile de prouver aux sophistes leur
futilite!" {radion gar estai} [sub. {emoi}] {mempsasthai outois
takhu (to) me} (sous-entendu) {gegraphthai orthos} (Gail). "Zwar
entgeht mir nicht, dass es schon say die Worte kunstvoll zu
ordnen, denn leichter wird ihnen sonst, schnell, aber mit Unrecht
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The second excerpt represents the present or the deciding factor of the moment, and is drawn from Woman and Labour by Olive Schreiner: century and beginning of the twentieth in a guise which it has never before
worn. We, the European women of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries,
stand therefore in a position the gravity and importance of which was not
equalled by that of any of our forerunners in the ancient civilisation. As
we master and rise above, or fall and are conquered by, the difficulties of
our position, so also will be the future, not merely of our own class, or
even of our own race alone, but also of those vast masses who are following
on in the wake of our civilisation. The decision we are called on to make
is a decision for the race; behind us comes on the tread of incalculable
millions of feet.
There is thus no truth in the assertion so often made, even by thoughtful
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The third excerpt represents the future or something you must embrace, and is drawn from La Grenadiere by Honore de Balzac: work, grew more industrious, and less inclined to play than
heretofore. When he had coaxed Marie to read a book and to give up
boisterous games, there was less noise in the hollow pathways and
gardens and terraced walks of La Grenadiere. They adapted their lives
to their mother's melancholy. Day by day her face was growing pale and
wan, there were hollows now in her temples, the lines in her forehead
grew deeper night after night.
August came. The little family had been five months at La Grenadiere,
and their whole life was changed. The old servant grew anxious and
gloomy as she watched the almost imperceptible symptoms of slow
decline in the mistress, who seemed to be kept in life by an
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