say you know. The Saviour and his disciples were walking along the way,
when they came upon a dead dog. The disciples did not conceal their
disgust. The Saviour said: "How white its teeth are!"'

'That is very beautiful,' I rejoined. 'Thank God for that. It is true,
whether invented or not. But,' I added, 'it does not quite answer to the
question about which we have been talking. The Lord got rid of the pain
of the ugliness by finding the beautiful in it.'

'It does correspond, however, I think, in principle,' returned Falconer;
'only it goes much farther, making the exceptional beauty hallow
the general ugliness--which is the true way, for beauty is life, and
therefore infinitely deeper and more powerful than ugliness which is
death. "A dram of sweet," says Spenser, "is worth a pound of sour."'

It was so delightful to hear him talk--for what he said was not only
far finer than my record of it, but the whole man spoke as well as his
mouth--that I sought to start him again.

'I wish,' I said, 'that I could see things as you do--in great masses
of harmonious unity. I am only able to see a truth sparkling here and
there, and to try to lay hold of it. When I aim at more, I am like
Noah's dove, without a place to rest the sole of my foot.'

'That is the only way to begin. Leave the large vision to itself, and
look well after your sparkles. You will find them grow and gather and
unite, until you are afloat on a sea of radiance--with cloud shadows no
doubt.'

'And yet,' I resumed, 'I never seem to have room.'

'That is just why.'

'But I feel that I cannot find it. I know that if I fly to that bounding
cape on the far horizon there, I shall only find a place--a place to
want another in. There is no fortunate island out on that sea.'

'I fancy,' said Falconer, 'that until a man loves space, he will never
be at peace in a place. At least so I have found it. I am content if you
but give me room. All space to me throbs with being and life; and the
loveliest spot on the earth seems but the compression of space till
the meaning shines out of it, as the fire flies out of the air when you
drive it close together. To seek place after place for freedom, is a
constant effort to flee from space, and a vain one, for you are ever
haunted by the need of it, and therefore when you seek most to escape
it, fancy that you love it and want it.'

'You are getting too mystical for me now,' I said. 'I am not able to
follow you.'

'I