THE READER

"I never read such an impious book," said the reader, throwing it on the
floor.

"You need not hurt me," said the book; "you will only get less for me
second-hand, and I did not write myself."

"That is true," said the reader. "My quarrel is with your author."

"Ah, well," said the book, "you need not buy his rant."

"That is true," said the reader. "But I thought him such a cheerful
writer."

"I find him so," said the book.

"You must be differently made from me," said the reader.

"Let me tell you a fable," said the book. "There were two men wrecked
upon a desert island; one of them made believe he was at home, the other
admitted----"

"O, I know your kind of fable," said the reader. "They both died."

"And so they did," said the book. "No doubt of that. And everybody
else."

"That is true," said the reader. "Push it a little further for this
once. And when they were all dead?"

"They were in God's hands, the same as before," said the book.

"Not much to boast of, by your account," cried the reader.

"Who is impious now?" said the book.

And the reader put him on the fire.

The coward crouches from the rod,
And loathes the iron face of God.

XII

THE CITIZEN AND THE TRAVELLER

"Look round you," said the citizen. "This is the largest market in the
world."

"O, surely not," said the traveller.

"Well, perhaps not the largest," said the citizen, "but much the best."

"You are certainly wrong there," said the traveller. "I can tell you...."

They buried the stranger at the dusk.

XIII

THE DISTINGUISHED STRANGER

Once upon a time there came to this earth a visitor from a neighbouring
planet. And he was met at the place of his descent by a great
philosopher, who was to show him everything.

First of all they came through a wood, and the stranger looked upon the
trees. "Whom have we here?" said he.

"These are only vegetables," said the philosopher. "They are alive, but
not at all interesting."

"I don't know about that," said the stranger. "They seem to have very
good manners. Do they never speak?"

"They lack the gift," said the philosopher.

"Yet I think I hear them sing," said the other.

"That is only the wind among the leaves," said the philosopher. "I will
explain to you the theory of winds: it is very interesting."

"Well," said the stranger, "I wish I knew what they are thinking."

"They cannot think," said the philosopher.

"I don'