J j. U S t I F 0 1 k S By A. A Guest Edgar THE FANATIC He talked ot of nothing else but his one dream As it if all else were unimportant here The gossip of the passing year Meant nothing to him Others Others' eyes eye might gleam With joy to to- gaze on newer flower and field and stream But he scarce knew tie birds were ere singing ging near near- were blue above or drear So fraught fraught with promise did his vision seem Where Where us besaw a light ht We could not witness with him eye Nor understand him arid he wondered why anati al we called him and were right Yet now now th that t. t thirty years rs save have by rh The truth h beaw a L eO t sight