第10章

Somonthbymonth，summerandwinter，theoldlifegoeson——reading，praying，weeping，praying。Theytelluswebecomeutterlystupid。Weknowit。Eventhemultiplicationtablewelearntwithsomuchcareweforgot。

Thephysicalworldrecedesfurtherandfurtherfromus。Trulywelovenottheworld，neitherthethingsthatareinit。Acrosstheboundsofsleepourgrieffollowsus。Whenwewakeinthenightwearesittingupinbedweepingbitterly，orfindourselfoutsideinthemoonlight，dressed，andwalkingupanddown，andwringingourhands，andwecannottellhowwecamethere。Sopasstwoyears，asmenreckonthem。

V。

Thenanewtime。

Beforeustherewerethreecoursespossible——togomad，todie，tosleep。

Wetakethelattercourse；ornaturetakesitforus。

Allthingstakerestinsleep；thebeasts，birds，theveryflowersclosetheireyes，andthestreamsarestillinwinter；allthingstakerest；thenwhynotthehumanreasonalso？Sothequestioningdevilinusdropsasleep，andinthatsleepabeautifuldreamrisesforus。Thoughyouhearallthedreamsofmen，youwillhardlyfindaprettieronethanours。Itranso：

InthecentreofallthingsisamightyHeart，which，havingbegottenallthings，lovesthem；and，havingbornthemintolife，beatswithgreatthrobsoflovetowardsthem。NodeathforHisdearinsects，nohellforHisdearmen，noburningupforHisdearworld——Hisown，ownworldthathehasmade。Intheendallwillbebeautiful。Donotaskushowwemakeourdreamtallywithfacts；thegloryofadreamisthis——thatitdespisesfacts，andmakesitsown。Ourdreamsavesusfromgoingmad；thatisenough。

Itspeculiarpointofsweetnesslayhere。WhentheMightyHeart’syearningoflovebecametoogreatforotherexpression，itshapeditselfintothesweetRoseofheaven，thebelovedMan—god。

Jesus！youJesusofourdream！howwelovedyou；noBibletellsofyouasweknewyou。Yoursweethandsheldoursfast；yoursweetvoicesaidalways，"Iamhere，mylovedone，notfaroff；putyourarmsaboutme，andholdfast。"

WefindHimineverythinginthosedays。Whenthelittlewearylambwedrivehomedragsitsfeet，weseizeonit，andcarryitwithitsheadagainstourface。Hislittlelamb！WefeelwehavegotHim。

WhenthedrunkenKafferliesbytheroadinthesunwedrawhisblanketoverhishead，andputgreenbranchesofmilk—bushonit。HisKaffer；whyshouldthesunhurthim？

Intheevening，whenthecloudsliftthemselveslikegates，andtheredlightsshinethroughthem，wecry；forinsuchgloryHewillcome，andthehandsthatachetotouchHimwillholdhim，andweshallseethebeautifulhairandeyesofourGod。"Liftupyourheads，O，yegates；andbeyeliftedup，yeeverlastingdoors，andourKingofgloryshallcomein！"

Thepurpleflowers，thelittlepurpleflowers，areHiseyes，lookingatus。

Wekissthem，andkneelaloneontheflat，rejoicingoverthem。AndthewildernessandthesolitaryplaceshallbegladforHim，andthedesertshallrejoiceandblossomasarose。

Ifever，inourtearful，joyfulecstasy，thepoor，sleepy，half—deaddevilshouldraisehishead，welaughathim。Itisnothishournow。

"Ifthereshouldbeahell，afterall！"hemutters。"IfyourGodshouldbecruel！IfthereshouldbenoGod！Ifyoushouldfindoutitisallimagination！If——"

Welaughathim。Whenamansitsinthewarmsunshine，doyouaskhimforproofofit？Hefeels——thatisall。Andwefeel——thatisall。WewantnoproofofourGod。Wefeel，wefeel！

WedonotbelieveinourGodbecausetheBibletellsusofHim。WebelieveintheBiblebecauseHetellsusofit。WefeelHim，wefeelHim，wefeel—

—thatisall！Andthepoor，half—swampeddevilmutters：

"Butifthedayshouldcomewhenyoudonotfeel？"

Andwelaughandcryhimdown。

"Itwillnevercome——never，"andthepoordevilslinkstosleepagain，withhistailbetweenhislegs。Fierceassertionmanytimesrepeatedishardtostandagainst；onlytimeseparatesthetruthfromthelie。Sowedreamon。

Onedaywegowithourfathertotown，tochurch。Thetownspeoplerustleintheirsilks，andthemenintheirsleekcloth，andsettlethemselvesintheirpews，andthelightshinesinthroughthewindowsontheartificialflowersinthewomen’sbonnets。Wehavethesamemiserablefeelingthatwehaveinashopwherealltheclerksareverysmart。Wewishourfatherhadn’tbroughtustotown，andwewereoutonthekaroo。Thenthemaninthepulpitbeginstopreach。Histextis"Hethatbelievethnotshallbedamned。"

Thedaybeforethemagistrate’sclerk，whowasanatheist，hasdiedinthestreetstruckbylightning。

Themaninthepulpitmentionsnoname；buthetalksof"ThehandofGodmadevisibleamongstus。"Hetellsushow，whenthewhitestrokefell，quiveringandnaked，thesoulfled，robbedofhisearthlyfilament，andlayatthefootstoolofGod；howoveritsheadhasbeenpouredoutthewrathoftheMightyOne，whoseexistenceithasdenied；and，quiveringandterrified，ithasfledtotheeverlastingshade。

We，aswelisten，halfstartup；everydropofbloodinourbodyhasrushedtoourhead。Helies！helies！helies！Thatmaninthepulpitlies！

Willnoonestophim？Havenoneofthemheard——dononeofthemknow，thatwhenthepoor，darksoulshutitseyesonearthitopenedtheminthestilllightofheaven？thatthereisnowrathwhereGod’sfaceis？thatifonecouldoncecreeptothefootstoolofGod，thereiseverlastingpeacethere，likethefreshstillnessoftheearlymorning？Whiletheatheistlaywonderingandafraid，Godbentdownandsaid："Mychild，hereIam——I，whomyouhavenotknown；I，whomyouhavenotbelievedin；Iamhere。I

sentMymessenger，thewhitesheet—lightning，tocallyouhome。Iamhere。"

Thenthepoorsoulturnedtothelight——itsweaknessandpainweregoneforever。

Havetheynotknown，havetheynotheard，whoitisrules？

"ForalittlemomenthaveIhiddenmyfacefromthee；butwitheverlastingkindnesswillIhavemercyuponthee，saiththeLordthyRedeemer。"

Wemutterontoourselves，tillsomeonepullsusviolentlybythearmtoremindusweareinchurch。Weseenothingbutourownideas。

Presentlyeveryoneturnstopray。TherearesixhundredsoulsliftingthemselvestotheEverlastinglight。

Behindussittwoprettyladies；onehandsherscent—bottlesoftlytotheother，andamotherpullsdownherlittlegirl’sfrock。Oneladydropsherhandkerchief；agentlemanpicksitup；sheblushes。Thewomeninthechoirturnsoftlytheleavesoftheirtune—books，tobereadywhentheprayingisdone。ItisasthoughtheythoughtmoreofthesingingthantheEverlastingFather。Oh，woulditnotbemoreworshipofHimtositaloneinthekarooandkissonelittlepurpleflowerthathehadmade？Isitnotmockery？Thenthethoughtcomes，"Whatdoestthouhere，Elijah？"Wewhojudge，whatarewebetterthanthey？——ratherworse。Isitanyexcusetosay，"Iambutachildandmustcome？"DoesGodallowanysoultostepinbetweenthespirithemadeandhimself？Whatdowethereinthatplace，whereallthewordsareliesagainsttheAllFather？Filledwithhorror，weturnandfleeoutoftheplace。Onthepavementwesmiteourfoot，andswearinourchild’ssoulneveragaintoenterthoseplaceswheremencometosingandpray。Wearequestionedafterward。Whywasitwewentoutofthechurch。

Howcanweexplain？——westandsilent。Thenwearepressedfurther，andwetrytotell。Thenaheadisshakensolemnlyatus。NoonecanthinkitwrongtogotothehouseoftheLord；itistheidleexcuseofawickedboy。Whenwillwethinkseriouslyofoursouls，andlovegoingtochurch？

Wearewicked，verywicked。Andwe——weslinkawayandgoalonetocry。

Willitbealwaysso？Whetherwehateanddoubt，orwhetherwebelieveandlove，toourdearest，arewetoseemalwayswicked？

Wedonotyetknowthatinthesoul’ssearchfortruththebitternesslieshere，thestrivingcannotalwayshideitselfamongthethoughts；soonerorlateritwillclotheitselfinoutwardaction；thenitstepsinanddividesbetweenthesoulandwhatitloves。Allthingsonearthhavetheirprice；

andfortruthwepaythedearest。Webarteritforloveandsympathy。Theroadtohonourispavedwiththorns；butonthepathtotruth，ateverystepyousetyourfootdownonyourownheart。

VI。

Thenatlastanewtime——thetimeofwaking；short，sharp，andnotpleasant，aswakingsoftenare。

Sleepanddreamsexistonthiscondition——thatnoonewakethedreamer。

Andnowlifetakesusupbetweenherfingerandthumb，shakesusfuriously，tillourpoornoddingheadiswell—nighrolledfromourshoulders，andshesetsusdownalittlehardonthebareearth，bruisedandsore，butpreternaturallywideawake。

Wehavesaidinourdaysofdreaming，"Injusticeandwrongareaseeming；

painisashadow。OurGod，Heisreal，Hewhomadeallthings，andHeonlyisLove。"

Nowlifetakesusbytheneckandshowsusafewotherthings，——new—madegraveswiththeredsandflyingaboutthem；eyesthatwelovewiththewormseatingthem；evilmenwalkingsleekandfat，thewholeterriblehurly—burlyofthethingcalledlife，——andshesays，"Whatdoyouthinkofthese？"Wedarenotsay"Nothing。"Wefeelthem；theyareveryreal。Butwetrytolayourhandsaboutandfeelthatotherthingwefeltbefore。Inthedarknightinthefuel—roomwecrytoourBeautifuldream—god："Oh，letuscomenearyou，andlayourheadagainstyourfeet。Nowinourhourofneedbenearus。"ButHeisnotthere；Heisgoneaway。Theoldquestioningdevilisthere。

Wemusthavebeenawakenedsoonerorlater。Theimaginationcannotalwaystriumphoverreality，thedesireovertruth。Wemusthavebeenawakened。

Ifitwasdonealittlesharply，whatmatter？Itwasdonethoroughly，andithadtobedone。

VII。

Andanewlifebeginsforus——anewtime，alifeascoldasthatofamanwhositsonthepinnacleofanicebergandseestheglitteringcrystalsallabouthim。Theoldlooksindeedlikealonghotdelirium，peopledwithphantasies。Thenewiscoldenough。

NowwehavenoGod。Wehavehadtwo：theoldGodthatourfathershandeddowntous，thatwehated，andneverliked：thenewonethatwemadeforourselves，thatweloved；butnowhehasflittedawayfromus，andweseewhathewasmadeof——theshadowofourhighestideal，crownedandthroned。

NowwehavenoGod。

"Thefoolhathsaidinhisheart，ThereisnoGod。"Itmaybeso。Mostthingssaidorwrittenhavebeentheworkoffools。

Thisthingiscertain——heisafoolwhosays，"Nomanhathsaidinhisheart，ThereisnoGod。"

Ithasbeensaidmanythousandtimesinheartswithprofoundbitternessofearnestfaith。

Wedonotcryandweep：wesitdownwithcoldeyesandlookattheworld。

Wearenotmiserable。Whyshouldwebe？Weeatanddrink，andsleepallnight；butthedeadarenotcolder。

Andwesayitslowly，butwithoutsighing，"Yes，weseeitnow；thereisnoGod。"

And，weadd，growingalittlecolderyet。"Thereisnojustice。Theoxdiesintheyoke，beneathitsmaster’swhip；itturnsitsanguish—filledeyesonthesunlight，butthereisnosignofrecompensetobemadeit。

Theblackmanisshotlikeadog，anditgoeswellwiththeshooter。Theinnocentareaccusedandtheaccusertriumphs。Ifyouwilltakethetroubletoscratchthesurfaceanywhere，youwillseeundertheskinasentientbeingwrithinginimpotentanguish。"

And，wesayfurther，andourheartisastheheartofthedeadforcoldness，"Thereisnoorder：allthingsaredrivenaboutbyablindchance。"

Whatasouldrinksinwithitsmother’smilkwillnotleaveitinaday。

Fromourearliesthourwehavebeentaughtthatthethoughtoftheheart，theshapingoftherain—cloud，theamountofwoolthatgrowsonasheep’sback，thelengthofadrought，andthegrowingofthecorn，dependonnothingthatmovesimmutable，attheheartofallthings；butonthechangeablewillofachangeablebeing，whomourprayerscanalter。Tous，fromthebeginning，naturehasbeenbutapoorplasticthing，tobetoyedwiththiswayorthat，asmanhappenstopleasehisdeityornot；togotochurchornot；tosayhisprayersrightornot；totravelonaSundayornot。WasitpossibleforusinaninstanttoseeNatureassheis——theflowingvestmentofanunchangingreality？Whenthesoulbreaksfreefromthearmsofasuperstition，bitsoftheclawsandtalonsbreakthemselvesoffinhim。Itisnottheworkofadaytosqueezethemout。

Andso，forus，thehuman—likedriverandguidebeinggone，allexistence，aswelookoutatitwithourchilled，wonderingeyes，isanaimlessriseandswellofshiftingwaters。Inallthatwelteringchaoswecanseenospotsolargeasaman’shandonwhichwemayplantourfoot。

Whetheramanbelievesinahuman—likeGodornoisasmallthing。Whetherhelooksintothementalandphysicalworldandseesnorelationbetweencauseandeffect，noorder，butablindchancesporting，thisisthemightiestfactthatcanberecordedinanyspiritualexistence。Itwerealmostamercytocuthisthroat，ifindeedhedoesnotdoitforhimself。

We，however，donotcutourthroats。Todosowouldimplysomedesireandfeeling，andwehavenodesireandnofeeling；weareonlycold。Wedonotwishtolive，andwedonotwishtodie。OnedayasnakecurlsitselfroundthewaistofaKafferwoman。Wetakeitinourhand，swingitroundandround，andflingitontheground——dead。Everyonelooksatuswitheyesofadmiration。Wealmostlaugh。Isitwonderfultoriskthatforwhichwecarenothing？

Intruth，nothingmatters。Thisdirtylittleworldfullofconfusion，andthebluerag，stretchedoverheadforasky，issolowwecouldtouchitwithourhand。

Existenceisagreatpot，andtheoldFatewhostirsitroundcaresnothingwhatrisestothetopandwhatgoesdown，andlaughswhenthebubblesburst。Andwedonotcare。Letitboilabout。Whyshouldwetroubleourselves？Neverthelessthephysicalsensationsarereal。Hungerhurts，andthirst，thereforeweeatanddrink：inactionpainsus，thereforeweworklikegalley—slaves。Noonedemandsit，butwesetourselvestobuildagreatdaminredsandbeyondthegraves。Inthegreydawnbeforethesheepareletoutweworkatit。Allday，whiletheyoungostricheswetendfeedaboutus，weworkonthroughthefiercestheat。Thepeoplewonderwhatnewspirithasseizedusnow。Theydonotknowweareworkingforlife。Webearthegreateststones，andfeelasatisfactionwhenwestaggerunderthem，andarehurtbyapangthatshootsthroughourchest。

Whileweeatourdinnerwecarryonbasketsfullofearth，asthoughthedevildroveus。TheKafferservantshaveastorythatatnightawitchandtwowhiteoxencometohelpus。Nowall，theysay，couldgrowsoquicklyunderoneman’shands。

Atnight，aloneinourcabin，wesitnomorebroodingoverthefire。Whatshouldwethinkofnow？Allisemptiness。Sowetaketheoldarithmetic；

andthemultiplicationtable，whichwithsomuchpainswelearntlongagoandforgotdirectly，welearnnowinafewhours，andneverforgetagain。

Wetakeastrangesatisfactioninworkingarithmeticalproblems。Wepauseinourbuildingtocoverthestoneswithfiguresandcalculations。WesavemoneyforaLatinGrammarandAlgebra，andcarrythemaboutinourpockets，poringoverthemasoverourBibleofold。Wehavethoughtwewereutterlystupid，incapableofrememberinganything，oflearninganything。Nowwefindthatalliseasy。Hasanewsoulcreptintothisoldbody，thatevenourintellectualfacultiesarechanged？Wemarvel；notperceivingthatwhatamanexpendsinprayerandecstasyhecannothaveoverforacquiringknowledge。Younevershedatear，orcreateabeautifulimage，orquiverwithemotion，butyoupayforitatthepractical，calculatingendofyournature。Youhavejustsomuchforce：whentheonechannelrunsovertheotherrunsdry。

AndnowweturntoNature。Alltheseyearswehavelivedbesideher，andwehaveneverseenher；andnowweopenoureyesandlookather。

Therockshavebeentousablurofbrown：webendoverthem，andthedisorganisedmassesdissolveintoamany—coloured，many—shaped，carefully—

arrangedformofexistence。Heremassesofrainbow—tintedcrystals，half—

fusedtogether；therebandsofsmoothgreyandredmethodicallyoverlyingeachother。Thisrockhereiscoveredwithadelicatesilvertracery，insomemineral，resemblingleavesandbranches；thereontheflatstone，onwhichwesooftenhavesattoweepandpray，welookdown，andseeitcoveredwiththefossilfootprintsofgreatbirds，andthebeautifulskeletonofafish。Wehaveoftentriedtopictureinourmindwhatthefossiledremainsofcreaturesmustbelike，andallthewhilewesatonthem，wehavebeensoblindedbythinkingandfeelingthatwehaveneverseentheworld。

Theflatplainhasbeentousareachofmonotonousred。Welookatit，andeveryhandfulofsandstartsintolife。Thatwonderfulpeople，theants，welearntoknow；seethemmakewarandpeace，playandwork，andbuildtheirhugepalaces。Andthatsmallerpeoplewemakeacquaintancewith，wholiveintheflowers。Thebittoflowerhasbeenforusamereblurofyellow；wefinditsheartcomposedofahundredperfectflowers，thehomesofthetinyblackpeoplewithredstripes，whomoveinandoutinthatlittleyellowcity。Everybluebellhasitsinhabitant。Everydaythekarooshowsusanewwondersleepinginitsteemingbosom。

Onourwaybacktoworkwepauseandstandtoseetheground—spidermakeitstrap，buryitselfinthesand，andthenwaitforthefallinginofitsenemy。

Furtheronwalksahornedbeetle，andnearhimstartsopenthedoorofaspider，whopeepsoutcarefully，andquicklypullsitdownagain。Onakaroo—bushagreenflyislayinghersilvereggs。Wecarrythemhome，andseetheshellspierced，thespottedgrubcomeout，turntoagreenfly，andflitaway。WearenotsatisfiedwithwhatNatureshowsus，andweseesomethingforourselves。Underthewhitehenweputadozeneggs，andbreakonedaily，toseethewhitespotwaxintothechicken。Wearenotexcitedorenthusiasticaboutit；butamanisnottolayhisthroatopen，hemustthinkofsomething。Soweplantseedsinrowsonourdam—wall，andpulloneupdailytoseehowitgoeswiththem。Alladeenburiedherwonderfulstone，andagoldenpalacesprungupatherfeet。Wedofarmore。Weputabrownseedintheearth，andalivingthingstartsout——

startsupward——why，nomorethanAlladeencanwesay——startsupward，anddoesnotdesisttillitishigherthanourheads，sparklingwithdewintheearlymorning，glitteringwithyellowblossoms，shakingbrownseedswithlittleembryosoulsontotheground。Welookatitsolemnly，fromthetimeitconsistsoftwoleavespeepingabovethegroundandasoftwhiteroot，tillwehavetoraiseourfacestolookatit；butwefindnoreasonforthatupwardstarting。

Welookintodeadducksandlambs。Intheeveningwecarrythemhome，spreadnewspapersonthefloor，andlieworkingwiththemtillmidnight。

Withastartedfeelingnearakintoecstasyweopenthelumpoffleshcalledaheart，andfindlittledoorsandstringsinside。Wefeelthem，andputtheheartaway；buteverynowandthenreturntolook，andtofeelthemagain。Whywelikethemsowecanhardlytell。

Aganderdrownsitselfinourdam。Wetakeitout，andopenitonthebank，andkneellookingatit。Abovearetheorgansdividedbydelicatetissues；belowaretheintestinesartisticallycurvedinaspiralform，andeachtiercoveredbyadelicatenetworkofblood—vesselsstandingoutredagainstthefaintbluebackground。Eachbranchoftheblood—vesselsiscomprisedofatrunk，bifurcatingandrebifurcatingintothemostdelicate，hair—likethreads，symmetricallyarranged。Wearestruckwithitssingularbeauty。And，moreover——andherewedropfromourkneelingintoasittingposture——thisalsoweremark：ofthatsameexactshapeandoutlineisourthorn—treeseenagainsttheskyinmid—winter：ofthatshapealsoisdelicatemetallictracerybetweenourrocks；inthatexactpathdoesourwaterflowwhenwithoutafurrowweleaditfromthedam；soshapedaretheantlersofthehornedbeetle。Howarethesethingsrelatedthatsuchdeepunionshouldexistbetweenthemall？Isitchance？Or，aretheynotallthefinebranchesofonetrunk，whosesapflowsthroughusall？Thatwouldexplainit。Wenodoverthegander’sinside。

Thisthingwecallexistence；isitnotasomethingwhichhasitsrootsfardownbelowinthedark，anditsbranchesstretchingoutintotheimmensityabove，whichweamongthebranchescannotsee？Notachancejungle；alivingthing，aOne。Thethoughtgivesusintensesatisfaction，wecannottellwhy。

Wenodoverthegander；thenstartupsuddenly，lookintothebluesky，throwthedeadganderandtherefuseintothedam，andgotoworkagain。

Andso，itcomestopassintime，thattheearthceasesforustobeawelteringchaos。Wewalkinthegreathalloflife，lookingupandroundreverentially。Nothingisdespicable——allismeaning—full；nothingissmall——allispartofawhole，whosebeginningandendweknownot。Thelifethatthrobsinusisabeginningandendweknownot。Thelifethatthrobsinusisapulsationfromit；toomightyforourcomprehension，nottoosmall。

Andso，itcomestopassatlast，thatwhereastheskywasatfirstasmallblueragstretchedoutoverus，andsolowthatourhandsmighttouchit，pressingdownonus，itraisesitselfintoanimmeasurablebluearchoverourheads，andwebegintoliveagain。

Chapter2。II。Waldo’sStranger。

Waldolayonhisstomachontheredsand。Thesmallostrichesheherdedwanderedabouthim，peckingatthefoodhehadcut，oratpebblesanddrysticks。Onhisrightlaythegraves；tohisleftthedam；inhishandwasalargewoodenpostcoveredwithcarvings，atwhichheworked。Dosslaybeforehimbaskinginthewintersunshine，andnowandagaincastinganexpectantglanceatthecornerofthenearestostrichcamp。Thescrubbythorn—treesunderwhichtheylayyieldednoshade，butnonewasneededinthatgloriousJuneweather，wheninthehottestpartoftheafternoonthesunwasbutpleasantlywarm；andtheboycarvedon，notlookingup，yetconsciousofthebrownsereneearthabouthimandtheintenselyblueskyabove。

Presently，atthecornerofthecamp，Emappeared，bearingacoveredsaucerinonehandandintheotherajug，withacupinthetop。Shewasgrownintoaprematurelittleoldwomanofsixteen，ridiculouslyfat。Thejugandsaucersheputdownonthegroundbeforethedogandhismasteranddroppeddownbesidethemherself，pantingandoutofbreath。

"Waldo，asIcameupthecampsImetsomeoneonhorseback，andIdobelieveitmustbethenewmanthatiscoming。"

ThenewmanwasanEnglishmantowhomtheBoer—womanhadhiredhalfthefarm。

"Hum！"saidWaldo。

"Heisquiteyoung，"saidEm，holdingherside，"andhehasbrownhair，andbeardcurlingclosetohisface，andsuchdarkblueeyes。And，Waldo，I

wassoashamed！Iwasjustlookingbacktosee，youknow，andhehappenedjusttobelookingbacktoo，andwelookedrightintoeachother’sfaces；

andhegotred，andIgotsored。Ibelieveheisthenewman。"

"Yes，"saidWaldo。

"Imustgonow。PerhapshehasbroughtuslettersfromthepostfromLyndall。Youknowshecan’tstayatschoolmuchlonger，shemustcomebacksoon。Andthenewmanwillhavetostaywithustillhishouseisbuilt。

Imustgethisroomready。Good—bye！"

Shetrippedoffagain，andWaldocarvedonathispost。Dosslaywithhisnoseclosetothecoveredsaucer，andsmeltthatsomeonehadmadenicelittlefatcakesthatafternoon。Bothweresointentontheiroccupationthatnottillahorse’shoofsbeatbesidetheminthesanddidtheylookuptoseeariderdrawinginhissteed。

HewascertainlynotthestrangerwhomEmhaddescribed。Adark，somewhatFrench—lookinglittlemanofeight—and—twenty，ratherstout，withheavy，cloudyeyesandpointedmoustaches。Hishorsewasafierycreature，wellcaparisoned；ahighly—finishedsaddlebaghungfromthesaddle；theman’shandsweregloved，andhepresentedtheappearance—anappearancerareonthatfarm——ofawell—dressedgentleman。

Inanuncommonlymelodiousvoiceheinquiredwhetherhemightbeallowedtoremainthereforanhour。Waldodirectedhimtothefarmhouse，butthestrangerdeclined。Hewouldmerelyrestunderthetreesandgivehishorsewater。HeremovedthesaddleandWaldoledtheanimalawaytothedam。

Whenhereturned，thestrangerhadsettledhimselfunderthetrees，withhisbackagainstthesaddle。Theboyofferedhimofthecakes。Hedeclined，buttookadraughtfromthejug；andWaldolaydownnotfaroffandfelltoworkagain。Itmatterednothingifcoldeyessawit。Itwasnothissheep—shearingmachine。Withmaterialloves，aswithhuman，wegomadonce，loveout，andhavedone。Wenevergetupthetrueenthusiasmasecondtime。Thiswasbutathinghehadmade，labouredover，lovedandliked——nothingmore——nothismachine。

Thestrangerforcedhimselflowerdowninthesaddleandyawned。Itwasadrowsyafternoon，andheobjectedtotravelintheseout—of—the—worldparts。Helikedbettercivilisedlife，whereateveryhourofthedayamanmaylookforhisglassofwine，andhiseasy—chair，andpaper；whereatnighthemaylockhimselfintohisroomwithhisbooksandabottleofbrandy，andtastejoysmentalandphysical。Theworldsaidofhim——theall—knowing，omnipotentworld，whomnolockscanbar，whohasthecat—likepropensityofseeingbestinthedark——theworldsaid，thatbetterthanthebookshelovedthebrandy，andbetterthanbooksorbrandythatwhichithadbeenbetterhadhelovedless。Butfortheworldhecarednothing；hesmiledblandlyinitsteeth。Alllifeisadream；ifwineandphilosophyandwomenkeepthedreamfrombecominganightmare，somuchthebetter。Itisalltheyarefitfor，alltheycanbeusedfor。Therewasanothersidetohislifeandthought；butofthattheworldknewnothing，andsaidnothing，asthewayofthewiseworldis。

Thestrangerlookedfrombeneathhissleepyeyelidsatthebrownearththatstretchedaway，beautifulinspiteofitselfinthatJunesunshine；lookedatthegraves，thegablesofthefarmhouseshowingoverthestonewallsofthecamps，attheclownishfellowathisfeet，andyawned。Buthehaddrunkofthehind’stea，andmustsaysomething。

"Yourfather’splaceIpresume？"heinquiredsleepily。

"No；Iamonlyaservant。"