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a skilful man or a frenzied man." That is, if he belong to that lower order of poets in whom thought and measure predominate over Imagination, he must be a skilful master over is plastic material words, in order to lift his subject out of the realm of prose; while if he be a "frenzied" (or inspired) man there will be no need of this, as then winged speech springs into being perfect, just as Minerva was fabled to have sprung full armed and panoplied from the brain of Jupiter. Now you see I thought this a fine illustration, and so I paused, complacent. Then, in his quiet, Elia-like way, my doctor says: "So that, in order to make a poet, you have to get a d_____d fool, and set him crazy." Whereupon I considered. I had my revenge, however. The talk presently slid into other channels, and Esculapine declared his belief - (we were speaking of innate ideas-) "that nine-tenths of that which a man knew, he learned." I asked him whether that were true in his own case: he said Yes. Then I expressed my sincere regret that he should have learned so little. Did you see our Regiment when, a year ago last September, it left Chicago? You wouldn't recognize it, now. We numbered