When she knew that I was of Geneva, she said to
me, 'she could not believe that all Protestants were lost souls;
that there were many honest people among us, and that God was too
good and too great to condemn all without distinction.' Then,
after a moment of reflection, she added, in shaking her head, 'But
that which is very strange is that of so many who have gone away,
none have ever returned. I,' she added, with an expression of
grief, 'who have so mourned my husband and my brothers, who have
never ceased to think of them, who every night conjure them with
beseechings to tell me where they are, and in what state they are!
Ah, surely, if they lived anywhere, they would not leave me thus!
But, perhaps,' she added, 'I am not worthy of this kindness,
perhaps the pure and innocent spirits of these children,' and she
looked at the cradle, 'may have their presence, and the joy which
is denied to _me_.'"--SAUSSURE, _Voyages dans les Alpes_, chap.
xxiv.
This we do not call Poetry, merely because it is not invented, but
the true utterance of a real person. [Ruskin.]
[41] The closing lines of Wordsworth's _Childless Father_.
[42] _Iliad_, 1. 463 ff., 2. 425 ff.; _Odyssey_, 3. 455 ff., etc.
[43] _Iliad_, 6. 468 ff.
[44] 1625-1713.
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