My labours were rewarded by frequent advancement.  Honours did but stimulate me to further exertions; the greater I became the more I applied myself, ever thirsting for knowledge and the power of doing good, till at length, after passing the severest tests, I became Tootmanyoso (Father of the World), and head of the State.

Then indeed my real labours began.  Light from Heaven had enabled me to see the causes of the evils afflicting my planet.  I had now to apply remedies for changing the poisoned torrents into sources of fertility, refreshment, and delight.

The dangers and obstructions before me were immense.  I felt that no unaided mortal power could overcome them; but I was encouraged to believe that, “like a chariot at full speed, which turns a narrow and dangerous corner, so would I pass over my mountains of difficulty, and run free in the wide space beyond.”

I resolved with all the concentrated ardour of my soul to persevere.

Day by day I applied myself to the work, and invoked the aid of my Creator.

My harp was my constant companion.  I was a great harpist; and when gratitude for some new light choked my utterance, I made the harp speak in accents and in language[1] that gave fresh inspiration to my soul.

[Footnote 1:  Musical sounds in Montalluyah have a meaning as easily understood as spoken words.  Our harp is different to yours, and will be described hereafter.]

II.

VYORA.

     “The humble and the proud are equally subject to the decrees of
     Heaven; and often one is raised and the other brought low.”

The system of education which I early inaugurated soon gave to my hand men of wondrous intelligence, fervid and eloquent emissaries, having at heart the success of my doctrines.

These men, themselves convinced, and earnest to convince others, I sent in all directions to prepare the people, and to discover genius and intelligence under whatever garb concealed, for I had determined that all should be encouraged to use their powers for their own and the general good, and be advanced accordingly.

Many things had happened to strengthen this, my early resolve.  One incident I will now relate.

A beggar made many attempts to gain admission to my palace, but was turned away with blows; his prayers that he might speak with me were received with derision,—­he was looked upon as a madman, and not allowed to pass the outer gate.

This same beggar—­Vyora, by name,—­saved the life of a little boy, the child of one of my leading men called Usheemee, “Men of truth.”

The child would have been crushed to death under the wheels of a chariot, moved by electricity and drawn by fleet horses,[1] had not this same beggar rushed forward, regardless of peril, and saved the boy.