l hear the singing in the garden, and the shout
upon the hillside--"

God said, "It may not be;" he pointed.

And I cried, "If I may not stay in Heaven, then let me go down to Hell,
and I will grasp the hands of men and women there; and slowly, holding
one another's hands, we will work our way upwards."

Still God pointed.

And I threw myself upon the earth and cried, "Earth is so small, so
mean! It is not meet a soul should see Heaven and be cast out again!"

And God laid his hand on me, and said, "Go back to earth: that which you
seek is there."

I awoke: it was morning. The silence and darkness of the night were
gone. Through my narrow attic window I saw the light of another day. I
closed my eyes and turned towards the wall: I could not look upon the
dull grey world.

In the streets below, men and women streamed past by hundreds; I heard
the beat of their feet on the pavement. Men on their way to business;
servants on errands; boys hurrying to school; weary professors pacing
slowly the old street; prostitutes, men and women, dragging their
feet wearily after last night's debauch; artists with quick, impatient
footsteps; tradesmen for orders; children to seek for bread. I heard the
stream beat by. And at the alley's mouth, at the street corner, a broken
barrel-organ was playing; sometimes it quavered and almost stopped, then
went on again, like a broken human voice.

I listened: my heart scarcely moved; it was as cold as lead. I could
not bear the long day before me; and I tried to sleep again; yet still I
heard the feet upon the pavement. And suddenly I heard them cry loud as
they beat, "We are seeking!--we are seeking!--we are seeking!" and the
broken barrel-organ at the street corner sobbed, "The Beautiful!--the
Beautiful!--the Beautiful!" And my heart, which had been dead, cried out
with every throb, "Love!--Truth!--the Beautiful!--the Beautiful!" It was
the music I had heard in Heaven that I could not sing there.

And fully I awoke.

Upon the faded quilt, across my bed a long yellow streak of pale London
sunlight was lying. It fell through my narrow attic window.

I laughed. I rose.

I was glad the long day was before me.

Paris and London.

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Dreams, by Olive Schreiner

*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK DREAMS ***

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