We talked and talked of poetry. He brought down a huge treatise on
English versification, translated from some German scholar's
life-research--to prove a point ... he discussed what Sidney
Lanier--whom he had known--might have done with metrics, had he only
lived longer....
And "no ... no ... take my advice," he said, "don't go down to Eden."
There was something so vaguely deprecatory in his voice that it brought
from me the question--"why not? isn't Penton Baxter all right?"
"Oh, yes," in the same deprecatory tone,--"he's all right enough,
alone--but, together, you'd be like two balloons without ballast. He
might get you, or you might get him, into some sort of mess."
"Why Dr. Ward, what do you mean?"
"Penton is always protesting about something or other,--always starting
fantastic schemes ... he's just finished with his Parnassus Palace
experiment, which brought him a lot of newspaper notoriety ... which is
to me distasteful, extremely distasteful ... yet Baxter," he added
hastily, "is a real force ... he can think of more original projects in
a given space of time than anyone else I know."
"I look on him as a great and wonderful man!"
"Mark my word, Mr. Gregory, you'll find yourself in some sort of mix-up
if you go down to Eden to live with him. You're both too mad and
inflammable to be in the same neighbourhood."
Using all his powers of persuasion, Dr.
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