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"Didn't I tell you she always is?" interposes Hetty. "Yonder sentry is a better critic than we are, and a touch of nature masters us all." "Tamen usque recurrit!" cries the young student from college. George felt abashed somehow, and interested too. He had been sneering, and Theo sympathising. Her kindness was better nay, wiser than his scepticism, perhaps.

"Naturam expellas furca tamen usque recurrit." In 1647 a Commission, as it would now be called, was appointed by Parliament to conduct the visitation of the University.

The newly-instituted parson of to-day, brimming over with apostolic texts which forbid woman to speak in church, no sooner arrives at his parish than he finds himself in a spiritual world whose impulse and guidance is wholly in the hands of woman. Expel woman as you will, tamen usque recurrit. Woman is, in fact, the parish.

It may be expected of me that I should say something to justify myself with the world for a seeming inconsistency with my well-known principles in allowing my youngest son to raise a company for the war, a fact known to all through the medium of the publick prints. I did reason with the young man, but expellas naturam furcâ, tamenusque recurrit.

But the banana, more than any other plant we know of, has managed for many centuries to do without seeds altogether. The cultivated sort, especially in America, is quite seedless, and the plants are propagated entirely by suckers. Still, you can never wholly circumvent nature. Expel her with a pitchfork, tamen usque recurrit.