for autumn always flares at winter's edge, and those gardens shall lie
apart between winter and summer. And there shall be orchards in thy
garden, too, with all the burden of autumn on their boughs and all the
blossom of spring.

"Yea, I behold this palace, for we see future things; I see its white
wall shine in the huge glare of midsummer, and the lizards lying along
it motionless in the sun, and men asleep in the noonday, and the
butterflies floating by, and birds of radiant plumage chasing
marvellous moths; far off the forest and great orchids glorying there,
and iridescent insects dancing round in the light. I see the wall upon
the other side; the snow has come upon the battlements, the icicles
have fringed them like frozen beards, a wild wind blowing out of
lonely places and crying to the cold fields as it blows has sent the
snowdrifts higher than the buttresses; they that look out through
windows on that side of thy palace see the wild geese flying low and
all the birds of the winter, going by swift in packs beat low by the
bitter wind, and the clouds above them are black, for it is midwinter
there; while in thine other courts the fountains tinkle, falling on
marble warmed by the fire of the summer sun.

"Such, O King of the Years, shall thy palace be, and its name shall be
Erlathdronion, Earth's Wonder; and thy wisdom shall bid thine
architects build at once, that all may see what as yet the poets see
only, and that prophecy be fulfilled."

And when the poet ceased the Sultan spake, and said, as all men
hearkened with bent heads:

"It will be unnecessary for my builders to build this palace,
Erlathdronion, Earth's Wonder, for in hearing thee we have drunk
already its pleasures."

And the poet went forth from the Presence and dreamed a new thing.

. . . . .

A Narrow Escape

It was underground.

In that dank cavern down below Belgrave Square the walls were
dripping. But what was that to the magician? It was secrecy that he
needed, not dryness. There he pondered upon the trend of events,
shaped destinies and concocted magical brews.

For the last few years the serenity of his ponderings had been
disturbed by the noise of the motor-bus; while to his keen ears there
came the earthquake-rumble, far off, of the train in the tube, going
down Sloane Street; and when he heard of the world above his head was
not to its credit.

He decided one evening over his ev