Songs of the Heart (Classic Reprint), Miller Elvira Sydnor

He came like a whirlwind, almost outrun ning the breath of winter which: had slipped in at his heels.

He at once gathered them around him these three men - and held them, and infinitely charmed them with his wonderful flow of more wonderful talk The sparks from the forge of his genius flew upward and about, fast and furious. He was fresh from his desk, where he had spent the early hours of the night. On the morrow the world would read, breathless, what he had written. A word from his magic pen, and matters of State are made or broken.

There he was among them - his more seri ous work thrown aside. He was ripe for a full and free communion with the souls of men who could appreciate and understand him.

Need his name be told? Is he not the Saul in Israel, head and shoulders above his breth ren? Is he not a man brilliant, powerful, and full of peculiar genius? In short, is he not our own Henry Watterson?

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