rose, that young visionary, as she pressed
earth around her sapling's root: would
there ever come a time when the Camp
Fires of Earth would hail the Camp Fires
of some other planet across that illimitable
No Man's Land of Space, first--oh!
thought transcendent--first bridged by
her father's genius?

But with the high seasoning of that
thought came the salty smack of another!
All unseen in the planting excitement a
tear dropped upon the spading trowel as
she thought of that whimsical "Get thee
behind me, Satan, but don't push!" plea
of the inventor sorely tempted to commercialize
his genius, thwart its inspired range,
because of the difficulties about bringing
his project to fruition--and of that money
hung up, idle, for the next twelve years.

"Daddy-man thinks he'll be--well!
not an old man, but that his best energies
will be spent by that time, even if--"

But here the trowel dug vigorously,
burying head over ears the thought of
[[211]]

p210 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p211w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p212

v?