And the Unknown said, “Play with me.”

But the Child raised its soft hand slowly and the tender fingers grew apart, and its thumb was poised in thought upon its nose, and it spake not at all.  And the feather flitted far, far over the waste, and men came forth and gazed upon it, but it heeded them not.

Then said Life, “I am strong.  Kings have need of me and earth is my dominion.”  But the Unknown gathered up the scattered marbles, concealing them gently, and answered only this—­“I am a greater than Life.”

And the Child strayed onwards and the feather flitted, and Tant’ SANNIE still stewed kraut in the old Dutch saucepan.  And Bonaparte BLENKINS was glad.

CHAPTER II.

Cruelty, cruelty, cruelty—­all is cruelty!  Boys are beaten; oxen are stabbed till the blood bursts forth; happy, industrious, dung-collecting beetles are bitten in two by careless, happy, beetle-collecting dogs—­everything is wicked and cruel.  The Kaffir has beautiful legs, but he will kick his wife, and Tant’ SANNIE, alas! will not be there to drop a pickle-tub on his head.  And over everything hangs that inscrutable charm which hovers for ever for the human intellect over the incomprehensible and shadowy. Omne ignotum pro mirifico, I might say, but I prefer the longer phrase.

And I stood at the gate of Heaven, I and Tant’ SANNIE; and we spoke to everybody quite affably; and they all had time to listen to what we said, and to make suitable replies.

And I said, “Are we all here?”

And she said, “Not all.”

And I said, “The absent are always in the wrong.”

And she said, “I have heard that in French.”

And I said, “Is not that impertinent?”

And she said, “No.”

And a great Light fell across her face, as though a palm had smitten it, and the name of the palm was Hand, and its fruits were fingers five.

And again I addressed myself in terms of familiarity to the Ever-lasting, and I planted a book upon the clouds, where eight children lay prone with bees flying about their childish bonnets.

And there came a knock at my door.

“Eight o’clock!” said One.  “Arise!”

“Nay,” I answered; “it cannot be.”

“But the water is hot within the can, and the table will be spread for them that break their fast.”

“So be it.  I rise.”  And behold it was a dream!

CHAPTER III.

Far away the mother of the little nigger stood churning.  Where is the mother of the little black nigger?  She is churning slowly in the garden.  But cannot the aunt of the good gardener churn herself?  No; for she is in the orchard, plucking the apples, peaches, apricots, pears (Birnen), to give to the butler’s grandmother.

And there came Life and The Ideal walking hand in hand.  And behind them came Wealth and Vastness singing together.  And Infinity was there, and Health, and Wisdom, and Love.  And Reflection was mounted on a steed with Joy.  And many other shapes followed, delicately arrayed in fine linen.  And helmet-wearing Men in Blue marshalled the procession.  And they spake roughly, saying, “Pass away there, pass away there!”