ont of it are
withdrawn, and there the space of it lies before me, a bare, empty
hollow of green and blue and red, which to-morrow evening will be filled
with group after group of moving, talking, shining, acting men and
women, boys and girls. It looked to me like a human heart, waiting to be
filled with the scenes of its own story,--with this difference, that the
heart itself will determine of what sort those groups shall be. Then
there grew up in my mind the following little parable, which, to those
who do not care to understand it, will be dark,--but to those who desire
to know its meaning, may give light:

There was once a wise man to whom was granted the power to send forth
his thoughts in shapes that other people could see. And, as he walked
abroad in the world, he came upon some whom his wisdom might serve. One
day, having, in a street of the city where he dwelt, rescued from danger
a boy about ten years of age, he went with him to his mother, and begged
that he might take him to his house for a week. When they heard his
name, the parents willingly let their son go with him. And he taught him
many things, and the boy loved and trusted him.

When the boy was asleep in bed, the wise man would go to his room at
midnight, and lay his ear to his ear, and hearken to his dreams. Then he
would stand and spread out his arms over him and look up. And the boy
would smile, and his sleep was the deeper.

Once, just an hour after the sage had thus visited him, the boy woke,
and found himself alone in the middle of the night. He could not get to
sleep again, and grew so restless that he rose and went down the stair.
The moon shone in at every western window, and his way was "now in
glimmer and now in gloom." On the first landing he saw a door wide open,
which he had never seen open till now. It was the door of the wizard's
room. Within, all was bright with moonlight, and the boy first peeped,
then stepped in, and peered timidly about him.

The farther end of the room was hidden by a curtain stretched quite
across it, and, curious to see what was behind, he approached it. But
ere he reached it, the curtain slowly divided in the midst and, drawn
back to each side, revealed a place with just light enough in it from
the moonshine to show that it was a dungeon. In the middle of it, upon
the floor, sat a prisoner, with fetters to his feet, and manacles to his
hands; an iron collar was round his neck, and a chain from the collar
h