ces of other circles.... A dark speck moved
down the stream. A turtle was voyaging.

Now, far in the shadows, I saw a man sitting on the bank
fishing. His patience and persistence were remarkable, for he
had been there all the time. But the fish were at play. The
occasional splash of the carp, mingling with the perpetual
song of the birds and the distant roar of the waves breaking
on the shore to the south, formed one grand over-tone.

A feeling of awe came over me. I felt my insignificance. I
saw the hand of God. My relation to my surroundings was very
clear. My soul bowed to the God-ness in all things natural.
The God-ness in me was calling to be released. It was useless
to struggle against it, and deafen my ears to the cry. It
must be given voice. I felt my soul condemning me as an
echoer and imitator of men, as one whose every thought
becomes coloured with others' views. Like a sponge I was
readily receptive. Let a little mental pressure be applied
and I gave back the identical thoughts hardly shaded by
inward feelings. This was my soul's complaint.

No tree was exactly like one of its neighbours. Each
fulfilled its purpose in its particular way. Yet all
proclaimed the One Source. Performing its function, it was
fit to censure me and I took the cup.

... The sun had set. Darkness was wrapping the basin of the
little stream; heavy dew was falling. Mother Nature was
weeping tears of sympathy for one so short-sighted and drawn
to failure.

10

COMPASSION

I was struck early in the progress of the class of three with the
difference between the little girl, now turned eleven, and the other two
of fourteen and seventeen, in the one particular of daring to be
herself. She has never been patronised; and in the last year or more has
been actively encouraged to express the lovely and the elusive. Also, as
stated, she has no particular talent for writing. She is the one who
wants to be a mother. Not in the least precocious, her charm is quite
equal for little girls or her elders. Her favourite companions until
recently were those of her own age.

On the contrary, the other two were called to the work here because they
want to write, and although this very tendency should keep open the
passages between the zone of dreams and the more temperate zones of
matter, the fashions and man