the whole country blooming into dance and banquet and fresh girls at every step taken—these form the fair guerdon that stirs my breast at certain moments and makes me often resolve, after dinner, "to scorn delights and live laborious days," and sell my beautiful soul, illuminated with art and poetry, to the devil of Industry, with reversion to the supreme secretariat.
How mysterious and delicious are the cool penetralia of the Viceregal Office! It is the sensorium of the Empire; it is the seat of thought; it is the abode of moral responsibility! What battles, what famines, what excursions, of pleasure, what banquets and pageants, what concepts of change have sprung into life here! Every pigeon-hole contains a potential revolution; every office-box cradles the embryo of a war or dearth. What shocks and vibrations, what deadly thrills does this little thunder-cloud office transmit to far-away provinces lying beyond rising and setting suns. Ah! Vanity, these are pleasant lodgings for live years, let who may turn the kaleidoscope after us.
