"All poor women and men,
Broken-hearted and weeping,
Their dead they call on in vain,
Quietly smiling and sleeping.

"Friends, now listen and hear,
Give over crying and grieving,
There shall come a day and a year
When the dead shall be as the living.

"There shall come a call, a foot-fall,
And the golden trumpeters blowing
Shall stir the dead with their call,
Bid them be rising and going.

"Then in the daffodil weather,
Lover shall run to lover;
Friends all trooping together;
Death and Winter be over.

"Laying my bulbs in the dark,
Visions have I of hereafter.
Lip to lip, breast to breast, hark!
No more weeping, but laughter!"

Yet this is no way to start your chapter,
suggests Conscience. Why do you not write
an opening paragraph, for better for worse, in-
stead of looking out of the window and quot-
ing Katharine Tynan? And then it flashes
over me, in lieu of answer, that I have just
discovered one way of beginning the chapter,

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