begin her book, she took her pen suddenly, and wrote
the following prologue.

CHAPTER III.

FAILURE AND SUCCESS: A PROLOGUE.

FAILURE and Success passed away from Earth, and found themselves in a
Foreign Land. Success still wore her laurel-wreath which she had won on
Earth. There was a look of ease about her whole appearance; and there
was a smile of pleasure and satisfaction on her face, as though she knew
she had done well and had deserved her honours.

Failure's head was bowed: no laurel-wreath encircled it. Her face was
wan, and pain-engraven. She had once been beautiful and hopeful, but
she had long since lost both hope and beauty. They stood together,
these two, waiting for an audience with the Sovereign of the Foreign
Land. An old grey-haired man came to them and asked their names.

"I am Success," said Success, advancing a step forward, and smiling at
him, and pointing to her laurel-wreath.

He shook his head.

"Ah," he said, "do not be too confident. Very often things go by
opposites in this land. What you call Success, we often call Failure;
what you call Failure, we call Success. Do you see those two men waiting
there? The one nearer to us was thought to be a good man in your world;
the other was generally accounted bad. But here we call the bad man
good, and the good man bad. That seems strange to you. Well then, look
yonder. You considered that statesman to be sincere; but we say he was
insincere. We chose as our poet-laureate a man at whom your world
scoffed. Ay, and those flowers yonder: for us they have a fragrant
charm; we love to see them near us. But you do not even take the trouble
to pluck them from the hedges where they grow in rich profusion. So, you
see, what we value as a treasure, you do not value at all."

Then he turned to Failure.

"And your name?" he asked kindly, though indeed he must have known it.

"I am Failure," she said sadly.

He took her by the hand.

"Come, now, Success," he said to her: "let me lead you into the
Presence-Chamber."

Then she who had been called Failure, and was now called Success,
lifted up her bowed head, and raised her weary frame, and smiled at
the music of her new name. And with that smile she regained her beauty
and her hope. And hope having come back to her, all her strength
returned.

"But what of her," she asked regretfully of the old grey-haired man;
"must she be left?"

"She will learn," the old man whispered. "She is learning al