grace of her
movements, the most celebrated picture-maker of the province
burned the implements of his craft, and began life anew as a
trainer of performing elephants."

You cannot read these sentences, I think, without agreeing with what
has been said above. If you doubt it, take the old test and try to
write that kind of thing yourself.

In connection with such achievements it is customary to-day to deplore
the lack of public appreciation. Either to blame the hurried millions
of chance readers because they have only bought a few thousands of a
masterpiece; or, what is worse still, to pretend that good work is for
the few and that the mass will never appreciate it--in reply to which
it is sufficient to say that the critic himself is one of the mass and
could not be distinguished from others of the mass by his very own
self were he a looker-on.

In the best of times (the most stable, the least hurried) the date at
which general appreciation comes is a matter of chance, and to-day the
presentation of any achieved work is like the reading of Keats to a
football crowd. It is of no significance whatsoever to English Letters
whether one of its glories be appreciated at the moment it issues from
the press or ten years later, or twenty, or fifty. Further, after a
very small margin is passed, a margin of a few hundreds at the most, it
matters little whether strong permanent work finds a thousand or fifty
thousand or a million of readers. Rock stands and mud washes away.

What is indeed to be deplored is the lack of communication between
those who desire to find good stuff and those who can produce it: it
is in the attempt to build a bridge between the one and the other that
men who have the privilege of hearing a good thing betimes write such
words as I am writing here.
HILAIRE BELLOC

KAI LUNG'S GOLDEN HOURS

CHAPTER I

The Encountering of Six within a Wood

Only at one point along the straight earth-road leading from Loo-chow
to Yu-ping was there any shade, a wood of stunted growth, and here Kai
Lung cast himself down in refuge from the noontide sun and slept.

When he woke it was with the sound of discreet laughter trickling
through his dreams. He sat up and looked around. Across the glade two
maidens stood in poised expectancy within the shadow of a wild
fig-tree, both t