It is a not uncommon thing to hear it said, “If I could only write well some of the adventures I have had, what a novel it would be!” On inquiring into these same adventures we find only the most commonplace events. And yet the speaker was right. Being born, getting married, and dying are tremendous adventures, and they are universal. But only once in a while they are recorded properly, and then they take on epic proportions. Described by the pen of a Gorky, the passions of a peasant are heroic; seen through the golden glasses of Robert W. Chambers, love and mating and death are the antics of barnyard fowls.

But always in the eyes of himself will a man's life seem gilded with