arbles with the Unknown.
And the Unknown said unto Life, "Give me an alley-tor." But Life
replied, "Nay, for the commoneys are lying well, and the thumb of
him that aimeth is seasoned unto the stroke." And the Unknown beat
his sable wings together, and one black feather flitted far into the
breast of the day and fell to earth. And there came a fair-haired
Child plucking flowers in the desert with brows bent in thought.

And Life said unto the Child, "Play with me."

And the Unknown said, "Play with me."

But the Child raised its soft hand slowly and the tender fingers grew
apart, and its thumb was poised in thought upon its nose, and it spake
not at all. And the feather flitted far, far over the waste, and men
came forth and gazed upon it, but it heeded them not.

Then said Life, "I am strong. Kings have need of me and earth is
my dominion." But the Unknown gathered up the scattered marbles,
concealing them gently, and answered only this--"I am a greater than
Life."

And the Child strayed onwards and the feather flitted, and TANT'
SANNIE still stewed _kraut_ in the old Dutch saucepan. And BONAPARTE
BLENKINS was glad.

CHAPTER II.

Cruelty, cruelty, cruelty--all is cruelty! Boys are beaten; oxen
are stabbed till the blood bursts forth; happy, industrious,
dung-collecting beetles are bitten in two by careless, happy,
beetle-collecting dogs--everything is wicked and cruel. The Kaffir
has beautiful legs, but he will kick his wife, and TANT' SANNIE,
alas! will not be there to drop a pickle-tub on his head. And over
everything hangs that inscrutable charm which hovers for ever for the
human intellect over the incomprehensible and shadowy. _Omne ignotum
pro mirifico_, I might say, but I prefer the longer phrase.

And I stood at the gate of Heaven, I and TANT' SANNIE; and we spoke
to everybody quite affably; and they all had time to listen to what we
said, and to make suitable replies.

And I said, "Are we all here?"

And she said, "Not all."

And I said, "The absent are always in the wrong."

And she said, "I have heard that in French."

And I said, "Is not that impertinent?"

And she said, "No."

And a great Light fell across her face, as though a palm had smitten
it, and the name of the palm was Hand, and its fruits were fingers
five.

And again I addressed myself in terms of familiarity to the
Ever-lasting, and I planted a book upon the clouds, where eight
children lay prone with bees flying about the