empt to measure the harmonious circle
of the soul by the angular square of the book. What poor things our
minds are, after all. We have but one way of thinking derived from what
we know, and we incontinently apply it to things of which we can know
nothing, and then we quarrel with the result, which is a mere _reductio
ad absurdum_, showing how utterly false and meagre are our hypotheses,
premisses, and so-called axioms. Confucius, who began his system with
the startling axiom that "man is good," arrived at much more really
serviceable conclusions than Schopenhauer and all the pessimists put
together. Meanwhile, Isaacs was in love, and, I supposed, expected me to
say something appreciative.

"My dear friend," I began, "it is a rare pleasure to hear any one talk
like that; it refreshes a man's belief in human nature, and enthusiasm,
and all kinds of things. I talked like that some time ago because you
would not. I think you are a most satisfactory convert."

"I am indeed a convert. I would not have believed it possible, and now I
cannot believe that I ever thought differently. I suppose it is the way
with all converts--in religion as well--and with all people who are
taken up by a fair-winged genius from an arid desert and set down in a
garden of roses." He could not long confine himself to ordinary
language. "And yet the hot sand of the desert, and the cool of the
night, and the occasional patch of miserable, languishing green, with
the little kindly spring in the camel-trodden oasis, seemed all so
delightful in the past life that one was quite content, never suspecting
the existence of better things. But now--I could almost laugh to think
of it. I stand in the midst of the garden that is filled with all things
fair, and the tree of life is beside me, blossoming straight and broad
with the flowers that wither not, and the fruit that is good to the
parched lips and the thirsty spirit. And the garden is for us to dwell
in now, and the eternity of the heavenly spheres is ours hereafter." He
was all on fire again. I kept silence for some time; and his hands
unfolded, and he raised them and clasped them under his head, and drew a
deep long breath, as if to taste the new life that was in him.

"Forgive my bringing you down to earth again," I said after a while,
"but have you made all necessary arrangements? Is there anything I can
do, after you are gone? Anything to be said to these good people, if
they question me about you