"Jevousdiraiquel’excesesttoujoursunmal。"-

ANATOLEFRANCE

CONCERNINGLIFE

TABLEOFCONTENTS：

INNOFTRANQUILITY

MAGPIEOVERTHEHILL

SHEEP-SHEARING

EVOLUTION

RIDINGINTHEMIST

THEPROCESSION

ACHRISTIAN

WINDINTHEROCKS

MYDISTANTRELATIVE

THEBLACKGODMOTHER

THEINNOFTRANQUILLITY

Underaburningbluesky，amongthepine-treesandjunipers，thecypressesandolivesofthatOdysseancoast，wecameoneafternoononapinkhousebearingthelegend："OsteriadiTranquillita，"；and，partlybecauseofthename，andpartlybecausewedidnotexpecttofindahouseatallinthosegoat-hauntedgrovesabovethewaves，wetarriedforcontemplation。TothefamiliarsimplicityofthatItalianbuildingtherewerenotlackingsignsofacertainspiritualchange，foroutoftheolive-grovewhichgrewtoitsverydoorsaskittle-alleyhadbeenformed，andtwobabycypress-treeswerecutintotheeffigiesofacockandhen。Thesongofagramophone，too，wasbreakingforthintotheair，asitwerethepresidingvoiceofahighandcosmopolitanmind。And，lostinadmiration，webecameconsciousoftheodourofafull-flavouredcigar。Yes——intheskittle-alleyagentlemanwasstandingwhoworeabowlerhat，abrightbrownsuit，pinktie，andveryyellowboots。Hisheadwasround，hischeeksfatandwell-coloured，hislipsredandfullunderablackmoustache，andhewasregardingusthroughverythickandhalf-closedeyelids。

Perceivinghimtobetheproprietorofthehighandcosmopolitanmind，weaccostedhim。

"Good-day！"hereplied："IspikEnglish。BeeninAmurricayes。"

"Youhavealovelyplacehere。"

Sweepingaglanceovertheskittle-alley，hesentforthalongpuffofsmoke；then，turningtomycompanion（ofthepolitersex）withtheairofonewhohasmadehimselfperfectmasterofaforeigntongue，hesmiled，andspoke。

"Too-quiet！"

"Precisely；thenameofyourinn，perhaps，suggests————"

"Ichangeallthat——soonIcallitAnglo-Americanhotel。"

"Ah！yes；youareveryup-to-datealready。"

Heclosedoneeyeandsmiled。

Havingpassedafewmorecompliments，wesalutedandwalkedon；and，comingpresentlytotheedgeofthecliff，laydownonthethymeandthecrumbledleaf-dust。Allthesmallsingingbirdshadlongbeenshotandeaten；therecametousnosoundbutthatofthewavesswimminginonagentlesouthwind。Thewantoncreaturesseemedstretchingoutwhitearmstotheland，flyingdesperatelyfromaseaofsuchstupendousserenity；andovertheirbareshoulderstheirhairfloatedback，paleinthesunshine。Iftheairwasvoidofsound，itwasfullofscent——thatdeliciousandenliveningperfumeofmingledgum，andherbs，andsweetwoodbeingburnedsomewherealongwayoff；

andasilky，goldenwarmthslantedontousthroughtheolivesandumbrellapines。Largewine-redvioletsweregrowingnear。OnsuchacliffmightTheocritushavelain，spinninghissongs；onthatdivineseaOdysseusshouldhavepassed。Andwefeltthatpresentlythegoat-godmustputhisheadforthfrombehindarock。

ItseemedalittlequeerthatourfriendinthebowlerhatshouldmoveandbreathewithinoneshortflightofacuckoofromthishomeofPan。OnecouldnotbutatfirstfeelinglyremembertheoldBoersaying："OGod，whatthingsmanseeswhenhegoesoutwithoutagun！"

Butsoontheinfiniteincongruityofthisjuxtapositionbegantoproducewithinoneacuriouseagerness，asortofhalf-philosophicaldelight。Itbegantoseemtoogood，almosttooromantic，tobetrue。

Tothinkofthegramophoneweddedtothethinsweetsingingoftheoliveleavesintheeveningwind；torememberthescentofhisrankcigarmarryingwiththiswildincense；toreadthatenchantedname，"InnofTranquillity，"andheartheblandandaffableremarkofthegentlemanwhoownedit——suchwere，indeed，phenomenatostimulatesoulstospeculation。Andallunconsciouslyonebegantojustifythembythoughtsoftheotherincongruitiesofexistence——thestrange，thepassionateincongruitiesofyouthandage，wealthandpoverty，lifeanddeath；thewonderfuloddbedfellowsofthisworld；

allthoseluridcontrastswhichhauntaman’sspirittillsometimesheisreadytocryout："Ratherthanlivewheresuchthingscanbe，letmedie！"

Likeawildbirdtrackingthroughtheair，one’smeditationwanderedon，followingthattrailofthought，tillthechanceencounterbecamespirituallyluminous。ThatItaliangentlemanoftheworld，withhisbowlerhat，hisskittle-alley，hisgramophone，whohadplantedhimselfdowninthistempleofwildharmony，washenotProgressitself——theblindfigurewiththestomachfullofnewmeatsandthebrainofrawnotions？Washenottheveryembodimentofthewonderfulchild，Civilisation，sopossessedbyanewtoyeachdaythatshehasnotimetomasteritsuse——naivecreaturelostamidherowndiscoveries！Washenottheverysymbolofthatwhichwasmakingeconomiststhin，thinkerspale，artistshaggard，statesmenbald——thesymbolofIndigestionIncarnate！Didhenot，delicious，gross，unconsciousman，personifybeneathhisAmerico-Italianpolishallthoserankandprimitiveinstincts，whosesatisfactionnecessitatedthemillionmiseriesofhisfellows；allthosethickrapacitieswhichstirthehatredofthehumaneandthin-skinned！Andyet，one’smeditationcouldnotstopthere——itwasnotconvenienttotheheart！

Alittleaboveus，amongtheolive-trees，twoblue-clothedpeasants，manandwoman，weregatheringthefruit——fromsomesuchcouple，nodoubt，ourfriendinthebowlerhathadsprung；more"virile"andadventurousthanhisbrothers，hehadnotstayedinthehomegroves，buthadgoneforthtodrinkthewatersofhustleandcommerce，andcomeback——whathewas。Andhe，inturn，wouldbegetchildren，andhavingmadehispileoutofhis’Anglo-Americanhotel’wouldplacethosechildrenbeyondthecoarserinfluencesoflife，tilltheybecame，perhaps，evenasourselves，thesaltoftheearth，anddespisedhim。AndIthought："Idonotdespisethosepeasants——farfromit。Idonotdespisemyself——nomorethanreason；why，then，despisemyfriendinthebowlerhat，whois，afterall，butthenecessarylinkbetweenthemandme？"Ididnotdespisetheolive-

trees，thewarmsun，thepinescent，allthosematerialthingswhichhadmadehimsothickandstrong；Ididnotdespisethegolden，tenuousimaginingswhichthetreesandrocksandseawerestartinginmyownspirit。Why，then，despisetheskittle-alley，thegramophone，thoseexpressionsofthespiritofmyfriendinthebilly-cockhat？

Todespisethemwasridiculous！

AndsuddenlyIwasvisitedbyasensationonlytobedescribedasasortofsmilingcertainty，emanatingfrom，and，asitwere，stilltinglingwithineverynerveofmyself，butyetvibratingharmoniouslywiththeworldaround。ItwasasifIhadsuddenlyseenwhatwasthetruthofthings；notperhapstoanybodyelse，butatalleventstome。AndIfeltatoncetranquilandelated，aswhensomethingismetwithwhichrousesandfascinatesinamanallhisfaculties。

"For，"Ithought，"ifitisridiculousinmetodespisemyfriend——

thatperfectmarvelofdisharmony——itisridiculousinmetodespiseanything。Ifheisalittlebitofcontinuity，asperfectlylogicalanexpressionofanecessaryphaseormoodofexistenceasImyselfam，then，surely，thereisnothinginalltheworldthatisnotalittlebitofcontinuity，theexpressionofalittlenecessarymood。

Yes，"Ithought，"heandI，andthoseolive-trees，andthisspideronmyhand，andeverythingintheUniversewhichhasanindividualshape，areallfitexpressionsoftheseparatemoodsofagreatunderlyingMoodorPrinciple，whichmustbeperfectlyadjusted，volvingandrevolvingonitself。ForifItdidnotvolveandrevolveonItself，Itwouldpeteroutatoneendortheother，andtheimageofthispeteringoutnomanwithhismentalapparatuscanconceive。

Therefore，onemustconcludeIttobeperfectlyadjustedandeverlasting。ButifItisperfectlyadjustedandeverlasting，wearealllittlebitsofcontinuity，andifwearealllittlebitsofcontinuityitisridiculousforoneofustodespiseanother。So，"

Ithought，"Ihavenowproveditfrommyfriendinthebilly-cockhatuptotheUniverse，andfromtheUniversedown，backagaintomyfriend。"

AndIlayonmybackandlookedatthesky。Itseemedfriendlytomythoughtwithitssmile，andfewwhiteclouds，saffron-tingedliketheplumesofawhiteduckinsunlight。"Andyet，"Iwondered，"thoughmyfriendandImaybeequallynecessary，Iamcertainlyirritatedbyhim，andshallascertainlycontinuetobeirritated，notonlybyhim，butbyathousandothermenandso，withalightheart，youmaygoonbeingirritatedwithyourfriendinthebowlerhat，youmaygoonlovingthosepeasantsandthisskyandsea。But，sinceyouhavethistheoryoflife，youmaynotdespiseanyoneoranything，notevenaskittle-alley，fortheyareallthreadedtoyou，andtodespisethemwouldbetoblasphemeagainstcontinuity，andtoblasphemeagainstcontinuitywouldbetodenyEternity。Loveyoucannothelp，andhateyoucannothelp；butcontemptis——foryou——thesovereignidiocy，theirreligiousfancy！"

Therewasabeeweighingdownablossomofthymecloseby，andunderneaththestalkaveryuglylittlecentipede。Thewildbee，withhislittledarkbodyandhisbusybear’slegs，waslovelytome，andthecreepycentipedegavemeshudderings；butitwasapleasantthingtofeelsosurethathe，nolessthanthebee，wasalittlemoodexpressinghimselfoutinharmonywithDesignstinythreadonthemiraculousquilt。AndIlookedathimwithasuddenzestandcuriosity；itseemedtomethatinthemysteryofhisqueerlittlecreepingsIwasenjoyingtheSupremeMystery；andIthought："IfI

knewallaboutthatwrigglingbeast，then，indeed，Imightdespisehim；but，truly，ifIknewallabouthimIshouldknowallabouteverything——Mysterywouldbegone，andIcouldnotbeartolive！"

SoIstirredhimwithmyfingerandhewentaway。

"Buthow"——Ithought"aboutsuchasdonotfeelitridiculoustodespise；howaboutthosewhosetemperamentsandreligionsshowthemallthingssoplainlythattheyknowtheyarerightandotherswrong？

Theymustbeinabadway！"AndforsomesecondsIfeltsorryforthem，andwasdiscouraged。ButthenIthought："Notatall——

obviouslynot！Foriftheydonotfinditridiculoustofeelcontempt，theyareperfectlyrighttofeelcontempt，itbeingnaturaltothem；andyouhavenobusinesstobesorryforthem，forthatis，afterall，onlyyoureuphemismforcontempt。Theyareallright，beingtheexpressionsofcontemptuousmoods，havingreligionsandsoforth，suitabletothesemoods；andthereligionofyourmoodwouldbeGreektothem，andprobablyamatterforcontempt。Butthisonlymakesitthemoreinteresting。Forthoughtoyou，forinstance，itmayseemimpossibletoworshipMysterywithonelobeofthebrain，andwiththeothertoexplainit，thethoughtthatthismaynotseemimpossibletoothersshouldnotdiscourageyou；itisbutanotherlittlepieceofthatMysterywhichmakeslifesowonderfulandsweet。"

Thesun，fallennowalmosttothelevelofthecliff，wasslantingupwardontotheburnt-redpineboughs，whichhadtakentothemselvesaquaintresemblancetothegreatbrownlimbsofthewildmenTitiandrewinhispaganpictures，anddownbelowusthesea-nymphs，stillswimmingtoshore，seemedeagertoembracethemintheenchantedgroves。Allwasfusedinthatgoldenglowofthesungoingdown-seaandlandgatheredintoonetranscendentmoodoflightandcolour，asifMysterydesiredtoblessusbyshowinghowperfectwasthatworshipfuladjustment，whosesecretwecouldneverknow。AndIsaidtomyself："Noneofthosethoughtsofyoursarenew，andinavaguewayevenyouhavethoughtthembefore；butallthesame，theyhavegivenyousomelittlefeelingoftranquillity。"

AndatthatwordoffearIroseandinvitedmycompaniontoreturntowardthetown。Butaswestealthycreptbythe"OsteriadiTranquillita，"ourfriendinthebowlerhatcameoutwithagunoverhisshoulderandwavedhishandtowardtheInn。

"Youcomeagainintwoweek——Ichangeallthat！Andnow，"headded，"Igotoshootlittlebirdortwo，"andhedisappearedintothegoldenhazeundertheolive-trees。

Aminutelaterweheardhisgungooff，andreturnedhomewardwithaprayer。

1910。

MAGPIEOVERTHEHILL

Ilayoftenthatsummeronaslopeofsandandcoarsegrass，closetotheCornishsea，tryingtocatchthoughts；andIwastryingveryhardwhenIsawthemcominghandinhand。

Shewasdressedinbluelinen，andalittlecloudofhoney-colouredhair；hersmallfacehadseriouseyesthecolourofthechicoryflowersshewasholdinguptosniffat——acleansoberlittlemaid，withaverytouchingupwardlookoftrust。Hercompanionwasastrong，activeboyofperhapsfourteen，andhe，too，wasserious——hisdeep-set，blacklashedeyeslookeddownatherwithaqueerprotectivewonder；thewhileheexplainedinasoftvoicebrokenupbetweentwoages，thatexactprocesswhichbeesadopttodrawhoneyoutofflowers。Onceortwicethishoarsebutcharmingvoicebecamequitefervent，whenshehadevidentlyfailedtofollow；itwasasifhewouldhavebeenimpatient，onlyheknewhemustnot，becauseshewasaladyandyoungerthanhimself，andhelovedher。

Theysatdownjustbelowmynook，andbegantocountthepetalsofachicoryflower，andslowlyshenestledintohim，andheputhisarmroundher。NeverdidIseesuchsedate，sweetlovering，sotrustingonherpart，soguardianlikeonhis。Theywerelike，inminiature——-

thoughmoredewy，——thosesobercoupleswhohavelonglivedtogether，yetwhomonestillcatcheslookingateachotherwithconfidentialtenderness，andinwhom，onefeels，passionisatrophiedfromneverhavingbeeninuse。

LongIsatwatchingthemintheircoolcommunion，half-embraced，talkingalittle，smilingalittle，neveroncekissing。Theydidnotseemshyofthat；itwasratherasiftheyweretoomucheachother’stothinkofsuchathing。Andthenherheadslidlowerandlowerdownhisshoulder，andsleepbuttonedthelidsoverthosechicory-

blueeyes。Howcarefulhewas，then，nottowakeher，thoughIcouldseehisarmwasgettingstiff！Hestillsat，goodasgold，holdingher，tillitbeganquitetohurtmetoseehisshoulderthusinchancery。ButpresentlyIsawhimdrawhisarmawayeversocarefully，layherheaddownonthegrass，andleanforwardtostareatsomething。Straightinfrontofthemwasamagpie，balancingitselfonastrippedtwigofthorn-tree。Theagitatingbird，paintedofnightandday，wasmakingaqueernoiseandflirtingonewing，asiftryingtoattractattention。Risingfromthetwig，itcircled，vividandstealthy，twiceroundthetree，andflewtoanotheradozenpacesoff。Theboyrose；helookedathislittlemate，lookedatthebird，andbeganquietlytomovetowardit；bututteringagainitsqueercall，thebirdglidedontoathirdthorn-tree。Theboyhesitatedthen——butoncemorethebirdflewon，aridsuddenlydippedoverthehill。Isawtheboybreakintoarun；andgettingupquickly，Irantoo。

WhenIreachedthecresttherewastheblackandwhitebirdflyinglowintoadell，andtheretheboy，withhairstreamingback，wasrushinghelter-skelterdownthehill。Hereachedthebottomandvanishedintothedell。I，too，randownthehill。ForallthatI

waspryingandmustnotbeseenbybirdorboy，Icreptwarilyinamongthetreestotheedgeofapoolthatcouldknowbutlittlesunlight，sothicklyarchedwasitbywillows，birch-trees，andwildhazel。There，inaswingofboughsabovethewater，wasperchednopiedbird，butayoung，dark-hairedgirlwith，dangling，bare，brownlegs。Andonthebrinkoftheblackwatergoldened，withfallenleaves，theboywascrouching，gazingupatherwithallhissoul。

Sheswungjustoutofreachandlookeddownathimacrossthepool。

Howoldwasshe，withherbrownlimbs，andhergleaming，slantingeyes？Orwassheonlythespiritofthedell，thiself-thingswingingthere，entwinedwithboughsandthedarkwater，andcoveredwithashiftofwetbirchleaves。Sostrangeafaceshehad，wild，almostwicked，yetsotender；afacethatIcouldnottakemyeyesfrom。Herbaretoesjusttouchedthepool，andflickedupdropsofwaterthatfellontheboy’sface。

>Fromhimallthesobersteadfastnesswasgone；alreadyhelookedaswildasshe，andhisarmswerestretchedouttryingtoreachherfeet。Iwantedtocrytohim："Goback，boy，goback！"butcouldnot；herelfeyesheldmedumb-theylookedsolostintheirtenderwildness。

Andthenmyheartstoodstill，forhehadslippedandwasstrugglingindeepwaterbeneathherfeet。Whatagazewasthathewasturninguptoher——notfrightened，butsolonging，sodesperate；andhershowtriumphant，andhowhappy！

Andthenheclutchedherfoot，andclung，andclimbed；andbendingdown，shedrewhimuptoher，allwet，andclaspedhimintheswingofboughs。

Itookalongbreaththen。Anorangegleamofsunlighthadflamedinamongtheshadowsandfellroundthosetwowheretheyswungoverthedarkwater，withlipsclosetogetherandspiritslostinoneanother’s，andintheireyessuchdrowningecstasy！Andthentheykissed！Allroundmepool，andleaves，andairseemedsuddenlytoswirlandmelt——Icouldseenothingplain！……Whattimepassed——Idonotknow——beforetheirfacesslowlyagainbecamevisible！Hisfacethesoberboy’s——wasturnedawayfromher，andhewaslistening；forabovethewhisperingofleavesasoundofweepingcamefromoverthehill。Itwastothathelistened。

AndevenasIlookedhesliddownfromoutofherarms；backintothepool，andbeganstrugglingtogaintheedge。Whatgriefandlonginginherwildfacethen！Butshedidnotwail。Shedidnottrytopullhimback；thatelfishheartofdignitycouldreachouttowhatwascoming，itcouldnotdragatwhatwasgone。Unmovingastheboughsandwater，shewatchedhimabandonher。

Slowlythestrugglingboygainedland，andlaythere，breathless。

Andstillthatsoundoflonelyweepingcamefromoverthehill。

Listening，butlookingatthosewild，mourningeyesthatnevermovedfromhim，helay。Onceheturnedbacktowardthewater，butfirehaddiedwithinhim；hishandsdropped，nerveless——hisyoungfacewasallbewilderment。

Andthequietdarknessofthepoolwaited，andthetrees，andthoselosteyesofhers，andmyheart。Andeverfromoverthehillcamethelittlefairmaiden’slonelyweeping。

Then，slowlydragginghisfeet，stumbling，half-blinded，turningandturningtolookback，theboygropedhiswayoutthroughthetreestowardthatsound；and，ashewent，thatdarkspirit-elf，abandoned，claspingherownlithebodywithherarms，nevermovedhergazefromhim。

I，too，creptaway，andwhenIwassafeoutsideinthepaleeveningsunlight，peeredbackintothedell。Thereunderthedarktreesshewasnolonger，butroundandroundthatcageofpassion，flutteringandwailingthroughtheleaves，overtheblackwater，wasthemagpie，flightingonitstwilightwings。

IturnedandranandrantillIcameoverthehillandsawtheboyandthelittlefair，sobermaidensittingtogetheroncemoreontheopenslope，underthehighblueheaven。Shewasnestlinghertear-

stainedfaceagainsthisshoulderandspeakingalreadyofindifferentthings。Andhe——hewasholdingherwithhisarmandwatchingoverherwitheyesthatseemedtoseesomethingelse。

AndsoIlay，hearingtheirsobertalkandgazingattheirsoberlittlefigures，tillIawokeandknewIhaddreamedallthatlittleallegoryofsacredandprofanelove，andfromithadreturnedtoreason，knowingnomorethaneverwhichwaswhich。

1912。

SHEEP-SHEARING

>Fromearlymorningtherehadbeenbleatingofsheepintheyard，sothatoneknewthecreatureswerebeingsheared，andtowardeveningI

wentalongtosee。Thirtyorfortynaked-lookingghostsofsheepwerepennedagainstthebarn，andperhapsadozenstillinhabitingtheircoats。Intothewoolofoneofthesebulkyewesthefarmer’ssmall，yellow-haireddaughterwastwistingherfist，hustlingittowardFate；thoughpulledalmostoffherfeetbythefrightened，stubborncreature，sheneverletgo，till，withadespairingcough，theewehadpassedoverthethresholdandwasfastinthehandsofashearer。Atthefarendofthebarn，closebythedoors，Istoodaminuteortwobeforeshiftinguptowatchtheshearing。Intothatdim，beautifulhomeofage，withitsgreatraftersandmellowstonearchways，theJunesunlightshonethroughloopholesandchinks，inthinglamour，powderingwithitsverystrangenessthedarkcathedraledair，where，highup，clungafogofoldgreycobwebssothickaseverwerethestalactitesofahugecave。Atthisendthescentofsheepandwoolandmenhadnotyetroutedthathomeessenceofthebarn，likethesavourofacornsandwitheringbeechleaves。

Theywereshearingbyhandthisyear，nineofthem，countingthepostman，who，thoughfarm-bred，"did’nputtmuchtotheshearin’，"

buthadcometoroundthesheepupandgivegeneralaid。

Sittingonthecreatures，orwithalegfirmlycrookedovertheirheads，eachshearer，eventhetwoboys，hadanairofgoingatitinhisownway。Intheirwhitecanvasshearingsuitstheyworkedverysteadily，almostinsilence，asifdrowsedbythe"click-clip，click-

clip"oftheshears。Andthesheep，butforanoccasionalwriggleoflegsorhead，layquietenough，havinganinbornsenseperhapsofthefitnessofthings，evenwhen，onceinaway，theylostmorethanwool；gladtoo，mayhap，toberidoftheirmattedvestments。Fromtimetotimethelittledamselofferedeachshearerajugandglass，butnomandranktillhehadfinishedhissheep；thenhewouldgetup，stretchhiscrampedmuscles，drinkdeep，andalmostinstantlysitdownagainonafreshbeast。Andalwaystherewasthebuzzoffliesswarminginthesunlightoftheopendoorway，thedryrustleofthepollardedlime-treesinthesharpwindoutside，thebleatingofsomereleasedewe，upsetatherownnakedness，thescrapeandshuffleofheelsandsheep’slimbsonthefloor，togetherwiththe"click-clip，click-clip"oftheshears。

Aseachewe，finishedwith，struggledup，helpedbyafriendlyshove，andboltedoutdazedlyintothepen，Icouldnothelpwonderingwhatwaspassinginherhead——intheheadsofallthoseunceremoniouslytreatedcreatures；and，movingnearertothepostman，Isaid：

"They’rereallyverygood，onthewhole。"

Helookedatme，Ithought，queerly。

"Yaas，"heanswered；"Mr。Molton’sthebestofthem。"

IlookedaskanceatMr。Molton；but，withhiskneecrookedroundayoungewe，hewasshearingcalmly。

"Yes，"Iadmitted，"heiscertainlygood。"

"Yaas，"repliedthepostman。

Edgingbackintothedarkness，awayfromthatuncomprehendingyouth，Iescapedintotheair，andpassingtheremainsoflastyear’sstacksunderthetall，topplingelms，satdowninafieldunderthebank。

ItseemedtomethatIhadfoodforthought。Inthatlittlemisunderstandingbetweenmeandthepostmanwasalltheessenceofthedifferencebetweenthatstateofcivilisationinwhichsheepcouldpromptasentiment，andthatstateinwhichsheepcouldnot。

Theheatfromthedroppingsun，notfarnowabovethemoorline，struckfullintothefernsandlonggrassofthebankwhereIwassitting，andthemidgesriotedonmeinthislastwarmth。Thewindwasbarredout，sothatonehadthefullsweetnessoftheclover，fastbecominghay，overwhichtheswallowswerewheelingandswoopingafterflies。Andfarup，asitwerethecrownofNature’sbeautifuldevouringcircle，abuzzardhawk，almoststationaryontheair，floated，intentonsomethingpleasantbelowhim。Anumberoflittlehenscreptthroughthegateonebyone，andcameroundme。ItseemedtothemthatIwastheretofeedthem；andtheyheldtheirneatredoryellowheadstoonesideandtheother，inquiringwiththeirbeadyeyes，surprisedatmystillness。Theywereprettywiththeirspeckledfeathers，andasitseemedtome，plumpandyoung，sothatI

wonderedhowmanyofthemwouldintimefeedme。Finding，however，thatIgavethemnothingtoeat，theywentaway，andtherearose，inplaceoftheirclucking，thethinsingingofairpassingthroughsomelongtube。Iknewitforthewhiningofmydog，whohadnosedmeout，butcouldnotgetthroughthepadlockedgate。AndasIliftedhimover，Iwasgladthepostmancouldnotseeme——forIfeltthattoliftadogoveragatewouldbeagainsttheprinciplesofoneforwhomtheconnectionofsheepwithgoodbehaviourhadbeentoostrangeathought。Anditsuddenlyrushedintomymindthatthetimewouldnodoubtcomewhentheconductofapples，beingpluckedfromthemothertree，wouldinspireus，andweshouldsay："They’rereallyverygood！"AndIwondered，werethosefuturewatchersofapple-gatheringfartherfrommethanI，watchingsheep-shearing，fromthepostman？

Ithought，too，oftheprettydreamsbeingdreamtabouttheland，andofthepeoplewhodreamedthem。AndIlookedatthatland，coveredwiththesweetpinkish-greenoftheclover，andconsideredhowmuchofit，throughthemediumofsheep，wouldfinditswayintome，toenablemetocomeouthereandbeeatenbymidges，andspeculateaboutthings，andconceivethesentimentofhowgoodthesheepwere。

Anditallseemedqueer。Ithought，too，ofaworldentirelycomposedofpeoplewhocouldseethesheenripplingonthatclover，andfeelasortofsweetelationatthescentofit，andIwonderedhowmuchcloverwouldbesownthen？ManythingsIthoughtof，sittingthere，tillthesunsankbelowthemoorline，thewinddiedofftheclover，andthemidgesslept。Hereandthereintheiris-

colouredskyastarcreptout；thesoft-hootingowlsawoke。ButstillIlingered，watchinghow，oneafteranother，shapesandcoloursdiedintotwilight；andIwonderedwhatthepostmanthoughtoftwilight，thatinconvenientstate，whenthingswereneitherdarknorlight；andIwonderedwhatthesheepwerethinkingthisfirstnightwithouttheircoats。Then，slinkingalongthehedge，noiseless，unheardbymysleepingspaniel，Isawatawnydogstealingby。Hepassedwithoutseeingus，lickinghisleanchops。

"Yes，friend，"Ithought，"youhavebeenaftersomethingveryunholy；

youhavebeendiggingupburiedlamb，orsomedesirablepersonofthatkind！"

Sneakingpast，inthissweetnight，whichstirredinonesuchsentiment，thatghoulishcurwasliketheomnivorousnessofNature。

Anditcametome，howwonderfulandqueerwasaworldwhichembracedwithinit，notonlythisredgloatingdog，freshfromhisfeastonthedecayingfleshoflamb，butallthosehundredsofbeingsinwhomthesightofaflywithonelegshortenedproducedaquiverofcompassion。Forinthissavage，slinkingshadow，IknewthatIhadbeheldamanifestationofdivinitynolessthaninthesmileofthesky，eachminutegrowingmorestarry。WithwhatHarmony——

Ithought——canthesetwobeenwrappedinthisroundworldsofastthatitcannotbemoved！Whatsecret，marvellous，all-pervadingPrinciplecanharmonisethesethings！Andtheoldwords’good’and’evil’seemedtomemorethaneverquaint。

Itwasalmostdark，andthedewfallingfast；Irousedmyspanieltogoin。

Overthehigh-walledyard，thebarns，themoon-whiteporch，duskhadbrusheditsvelvet。Throughanopenwindowcamearoaringsound。

Mr。Moltonwassinging"TheHappyWarrior，"tocelebratethefinishoftheshearing。Thebigdoorsintothegarden，passedthrough，cutoffthefullsweetnessofthatsong；fortheretheowlswerealreadymastersofnightwiththeirmusic。

Onthedew-whitenedgrassofthelawn，wecameonalittledarkbeast。Myspaniel，likingitssavour，stoodwithhisnoseatpoint；

but，beingcalledoff，Icouldfeelhimobedient，stillquivering，undermyhand。

Inthefield，awanhuddleintheblackness，thedismantledsheeplayunderahollyhedge。Thewindhaddied；itwasmist-warm。

1910

EVOLUTION

Comingoutofthetheatre，wefounditutterlyimpossibletogetataxicab；and，thoughitwasrainingslightly，walkedthroughLeicesterSquareinthehopeofpickingoneupasitreturneddownPiccadilly。Numbersofhansomsandfour-wheelerspassed，orstoodbythecurb，hailingusfeebly，ornotevenattemptingtoattractourattention，buteverytaxiseemedtohaveitsload。AtPiccadillyCircus，losingpatience，webeckonedtoafour-wheelerandresignedourselvestoalong，slowjourney。Asou’-westerlyairblewthroughtheopenwindows，andtherewasinitthescentofchange，thatwetscentwhichvisitseventheheartsoftownsandinspiresthewatcheroftheirmyriadactivitieswiththoughtoftherestlessForcethatforevercries："On，on！"Butgraduallythesteadypatterofthehorse’shoofs，therattlingofthewindows，theslowthuddingofthewheels，pressedonussodrowsilythatwhen，atlast，wereachedhomeweweremorethanhalfasleep。Thefarewastwoshillings，and，standinginthelamplighttomakesurethecoinwasahalf-crownbeforehandingittothedriver，wehappenedtolookup。Thiscabmanappearedtobeamanofaboutsixty，withalong，thinface，whosechinanddroopinggreymoustachesseemedinpermanentreposeontheup-turnedcollarofhisoldblueovercoat。Buttheremarkablefeaturesofhisfacewerethetwofurrowsdownhischeeks，sodeepandhollowthatitseemedasthoughthatfacewereacollectionofboneswithoutcoherentflesh，amongwhichtheeyesweresunkbacksofarthattheyhadlosttheirlustre。Hesatquitemotionless，gazingatthetailofhishorse。And，almostunconsciously，oneaddedtherestofone’ssilvertothathalf-crown。Hetookthecoinswithoutspeaking；but，aswewereturningintothegardengate，weheardhimsay：

"Thankyou；you’vesavedmylife。"

Notknowing，eitherofus，whattoreplytosuchacuriousspeech，weclosedthegateagainandcamebacktothecab。

"Arethingssoverybad？"

"Theyare，"repliedthecabman。"It’sdonewith——isthisjob。We’renotwantednow。"And，takinguphiswhip，hepreparedtodriveaway。

"Howlonghavetheybeenasbadasthis？"

Thecabmandroppedhishandagain，asthoughgladtorestit，andansweredincoherently：

"Thirty-fiveyearI’vebeendrivin’acab。"

And，sunkagainincontemplationofhishorse’stail，hecouldonlyberousedbymanyquestionstoexpresshimself，having，asitseemed，noknowledgeofthehabit。

"Idon’tblamethetaxis，Idon’tblamenobody。It’scomeonus，that’swhatithas。Ileftthewifethismorningwithnothinginthehouse。Shewassayingtomeonlyyesterday：’Whathaveyoubroughthomethelastfourmonths？’’Putitatsixshillingsaweek，’I

said。’No，’shesaid，’seven。’Well，that’sright——sheentersitalldowninherbook。"

"Youarereallygoingshortoffood？"

Thecabmansmiled；andthatsmilebetweenthosetwodeephollowswassurelyasstrangeasevershoneonahumanface。

"Youmaysaythat，"hesaid。"Well，whatdoesitamountto？BeforeIpickedyouup，Ihadoneeighteen-pennyfareto-day；andyesterdayItookfiveshillings。AndI’vegotsevenbobadaytopayforthecab，andthat’slow，too。There’smanyandmanyaproprietorthat’sbrokeandgone——everybitasbadasus。Theyletusdownaseasyasevertheycan；youcan’tgetbloodfromastone，canyou？"Onceagainhesmiled。"I’msorryforthem，too，andI’msorryforthehorses，thoughtheycomeoutbestofthethreeofus，Idobelieve。"

OneofusmutteredsomethingaboutthePublic。

Thecabmanturnedhisfaceandstareddownthroughthedarkness。

"ThePublic？"hesaid，andhisvoicehadinitafaintsurprise。

"Well，theyallwantthetaxis。It’snatural。Theygetaboutfasterinthem，andtime’smoney。IwassevenhoursbeforeIpickedyouup。

Andthenyouwaslookin’forataxi。Themastakeusbecausetheycan’tgetbetter，they’renotinagoodtemper，asarule。Andthere’safewoldladiesthat’sfrightenedofthemotors，butoldladiesaren’tneververyfreewiththeirmoney——can’taffordtobe，themostofthem，Iexpect。"

"Everybody’ssorryforyou；onewouldhavethoughtthat————"

Heinterruptedquietly："Sorrowdon’tbuybread……Ineverhadnobodyaskmeaboutthingsbefore。"And，slowlymovinghislongfacefromsidetoside，headded："Besides，whatcouldpeopledo？

Theycan’tbeexpectedtosupportyou；andiftheystartedaskin’youquestionsthey’dfeelitveryawkward。Theyknowthat，Isuspect。

Ofcourse，there’ssuchalotofus；thehansomsareprettynighasbadoffasweare。Well，we’regettin’fewereveryday，that’sonething。"

Notknowingwhetherornotomanifestsympathywiththisextinction，weapproachedthehorse。Itwasahorsethat"stoodover"agooddealattheknee，andinthedarknessseemedtohaveinnumerableribs。Andsuddenlyoneofussaid："Manypeoplewanttoseenothingbuttaxisonthestreets，ifonlyforthesakeofthehorses。"

Thecabmannodded。

"Thisoldfellow，"hesaid，"nevercarriedadealofflesh。Hisgrubdon’tputspiritintohimnowadays；it’snotuptomuchinquality，buthegetsenoughofit。"

"Andyoudon’t？"

Thecabmanagaintookuphiswhip。

"Idon’tsuppose，"hesaidwithoutemotion，"anyonecouldeverfindanotherjobformenow。I’vebeenatthistoolong。It’llbetheworkhouse，ifit’snottheotherthing。"

Andhearingusmutterthatitseemedcruel，hesmiledforthethirdtime。

"Yes，"hesaidslowly，"it’sabit’ardonus，becausewe’vedonenothingtodeserveit。Butthingsarelikethat，sofarasIcansee。Onethingcomespushin’outanother，andsoyougoon。I’vethoughtaboutit——yougettothinkin’andworryin’abouttherightso’things，sittin’uphereallday。No，Idon’tseeanythingforit。

It’llsoonbetheendofusnow——can’tlastmuchlonger。AndIdon’tknowthatI’llbesorrytohavedonewithit。It’sprettywellbrokemyspirit。"

"Therewasafundgotup。"

"Yes，ithelpedafewofustolearnthemotor-drivin’；butwhat’sthegoodofthattome，atmytimeoflife？Sixty，that’smyage；

I’mnottheonlyone——there’shundredslikeme。We’renotfitforit，that’sthefact；wehaven’tgotthenervenow。It’dwantamintofmoneytohelpus。Andwhatyousay’sthetruth——peoplewanttoseetheendofus。Theywantthetaxis——ourday’sover。I’mnotcomplaining；youaskedmeaboutityourself。"

Andforthethirdtimeheraisedhiswhip。

"Tellmewhatyouwouldhavedoneifyouhadbeengivenyourfareandjustsixpenceover？"

Thecabmanstareddownward，asthoughpuzzledbythatquestion。

"Done？Why，nothing。WhatcouldIhavedone？"

"Butyousaidthatithadsavedyourlife。"

"Yes，Isaidthat，"heansweredslowly；"Iwasfeelin’abitlow。

Youcan’thelpitsometimes；it’sthethingcomin’onyou，andnowayoutofit——that’swhatgetsoveryou。Wetrynottothinkaboutit，asarule。"

Andthistime，witha"Thankyou，kindly！"hetouchedhishorse’sflankwiththewhip。Likeathingarousedfromsleeptheforgottencreaturestartedandbegantodrawthecabmanawayfromus。Veryslowlytheytravelleddowntheroadamongtheshadowsofthetreesbrokenbylamplight。Aboveus，whiteshipsofcloudweresailingrapidlyacrossthedarkriverofskyonthewindwhichsmelledofchange。And，afterthecabwaslosttosight，thatwindstillbroughttousthedyingsoundoftheslowwheels。

1910。

RIDINGINMIST

Wetandhot，havingherwintercoat，themareexactlymatchedthedrenchedfox-colouredbeech-leafdrifts。Aswasherwontonsuchmistydays，shedancedalongwithheadheldhigh，herneckalittlearched，herearspricked，pretendingthatthingswerenotwhattheyseemed，andnowandthenvigorouslytryingtoleavemeplantedontheair。Stoneswhichhadrolledoutofthelanebankswereherespecialgoblins，foronesuchhadmaltreatedhernervesbeforeshecameintothisball-roomworld，andshehadnotforgotten。

Therewasnowindthatday。Onthebeech-treeswerestilljustenoughofcopperyleavestolooklikefireslightedhigh-uptoairtheeeriness；butmostofthetwigs，pearledwithwater，werepatternedverynakedagainstuniversalgrey。Berrieswerefew，exceptthepinkspindleone，sofarthemostbeautiful，ofwhichthereweremorethanEarthgenerallyvouchsafes。Therewasnosoundinthedeeplanes，noneofthatsweet，overheadsighingofyesterdayatthesamehour，buttherewasaqualityofsilence——adumbmistmurmuration。Wepassedatreewithaproudpigeonsittingonitstopspire，quitetooheavyforthetwigdelicacybelow；undisturbedbythemare’shoofsorthecreakingofsaddleleather，heletuspass，absorbedinhisworldoftranquilturtledoves。Themisthadthickenedtoawhite，infinitesimalrain-dust，andinitthetreesbegantolookstrange，asthoughtheyhadlostoneanother。Theworldseemedinhabitedonlybyquick，soundlesswraithsasonetrottedpast。

Closetoafarm-housethemarestoodstillwiththatextremesuddennesspeculiartoherattimes，andfourblackpigsscuttledbyandatoncebecamewhiteair。Bynowwewerebothhotandinclinedtoclingcloselytogetherandtakelibertieswitheachother；I

tellingherabouthernature，name，andappearance，togetherwithcommentsonhermanners；andshegivingforththatsterterous，sweetsnuffle，whichbeginsunderthestaronherforehead。Onsuchdaysshedidnotsneeze，reservingthoseexpressionsofherjoyforsunnydaysandthecrispwinds。Ataforkingofthewayswecamesuddenlyononegreyandthreebrownponies，whoshiedroundandflungawayinfrontofus，avisionofprettyheadsandhaunchestangledinthethinlane，till，consciousthattheywerebeyondtheirbeat，theyfacedthebankand，onebyone，scrambledovertojointheotherghostsoutonthedimcommon。

Dippingdownnowovertheroad，wepassedhoundsgoinghome。Pied，dumb-footedshapes，paddingalonginthatsoft-eyed，remoteworldoftheirs，withatallridingsplashofredinfront，andatallsplashofridingredbehind。Thenthroughagatewecameontothemoor，amongstwhitenedfurze。Themistthickened。Acurlewwaswhistlingonitsinvisibleway，farup；andthatwistful，wildcallingseemedtheveryvoiceoftheday。Keepinginviewtheglintoftheroad，wegalloped；rejoicing，bothofus，tobefreeofthejogjogofthelanes。

Andfirstthevoiceofthecurlewdied；thentheglintoftheroadvanished；andwewerequitealone。Eventhefurzewasgone；noshapeofanythingleft，onlytheblack，peatyground，andthethickeningmist。Wemightaswellhavebeenthatlonelybirdcrossingupthereintheblindwhitenothingness，likeahumanspiritwanderingontheundiscoveredmoorofitsownfuture。

Themarejumpedapileofstones，whichappeared，asitwere，afterwehadpassedover；anditcameintomymindthat，ifwehappenedtostrikeoneoftheoldquarrypits，weshouldinfalliblybekilled。

Somehow，therewaspleasureinthisthought，thatwemight，ormightnot，strikethatoldquarrypit。Thebloodinusbeinghot，wehadpurejoyinchargingitswhite，impalpablesolidity，whichmadeway，andatonceclosedinbehindus。Therewasgreatfuninthisyard-

by-yarddiscoverythatwewerenotyetdead，thisflying，shelterlesschallengetowhatevermightlieoutthere，fiveyardsinfront。Wefeltsupremelyabovethewishtoknowthatournecksweresafe；wewerehappy，pantinginthevapourthatbeatagainstourfacesfromthesheerspeedofourgalloping。Suddenlythegroundgrewlumpyandmadeup-hill。Themareslackenedpace；westopped。Beforeus，behind，torightandleft，whitevapour。Nosky，nodistance，barelytheearth。Nowindinourfaces，nowindanywhere。Atfirstwejustgotourbreath，thoughtnothing，talkedalittle。Thencameachillness，afaintclutchingovertheheart。Themaresnuffled；weturnedandmadedown-hill。Andstillthemistthickened，andseemedtodarkeneversolittle；wewentslowly，suddenlydoubtfulofallthatwasinfront。Therecameintoourmindsvisions，sodistantinthatdarkeningvapour，ofawarmstallandmangerofoats；ofteaandalogfire。Themistseemedtohavefingersnow，long，darkwhite，crawlingfingers；itseemed，too，tohaveinitssheersilenceasortofmutteredmenace，ashudderylurkingness，asiffromoutofitthatspiritoftheunknown，whichinhotbloodwehadjustnowsogleefullymocked，werecreepingupatus，intentonitsvengeance。

Sincethegroundnolongersloped，wecouldnotgodown-hill；therewerenomeansleftoftellinginwhatdirectionweweremoving，andwestoppedtolisten。Therewasnosound，notonetinynoiseofwater，windintrees，orman；notevenofbirdsorthemoorponies。

Andthemistdarkened。Themarereachedherheaddownandwalkedon，smellingattheheather；everytimeshesniffed，one’sheartquivered，hopingshehadfoundtheway。Shethrewupherhead，snorted，andstoodstill；andtherepassedjustinfrontofusaponyandherfoal，shapesofscamperingdusk，whiskedlikeblurredshadowsacrossasheet。Hoof-silentinthelongheather——aseverwerevisitingghosts——theyweregoneinaflash。Themareplungedforward，following。But，inthefeelofhergallop，andthefeelofmyheart，therewasnomorethatecstasyoffacingtheunknown；therewasonlythecold，hastydreadofloneliness。Farasunderasthepoleswerethosetwosensations，evokedbythissamemotion。Themareswervedviolentlyandstopped。There，passingwithinthreeyards，fromthesamedirectionasbefore，thesoundlessshapesoftheponyandherfoalflewbyagain，moreintangible，lessduskynowagainstthedarkerscreen。Werewe，then，tobehauntedbythosebewilderinguncannyones，flittingpasteverfromthesamedirection？

Thistimethemaredidnotfollow，butstoodstill；knowingaswellasIthatdirectionwasquitelost。Soon，withawhimper，shepickedherwayonagain，smellingattheheather。Andthemistdarkened！

Then，outoftheheartofthatduskywhiteness，cameatinysound；westood，notbreathing，turningourheads。Icouldseethemare’seyefixedandstrainingatthevapour。Thetinysoundgrewtillitbecamethemutteringofwheels。Themaredashedforward。Themutteringceaseduntimely；butshedidnotstop；turningabruptlytotheleft，sheslid，scrambled，anddroppedintoatrot。Themistseemedwhiterbelowus；wewereontheroad。Andinvoluntarilytherecamefrommeasound，notquiteashout，notquiteanoath。Isawthemare’seyeturnback，faintlyderisive，aswhoshouldsay：AloneIdidit！Thenslowly，comfortably，alittleashamed，wejoggedon，inthemoodofmenandhorseswhendangerisover。Sopleasantitseemednow，inoneshorthalf-hour，tohavepassedthroughthecircle-swingoftheemotions，fromtheecstasyofhotrecklessnesstotheclutchingofchillfear。Butthemeeting-pointofthosetwosensationswehadleftoutthereonthemysteriousmoor！Why，atonemoment，hadwethoughtitfinerthananythingonearthtoriskthebreakingofournecks；andthenext，shudderedatbeinglostinthedarkeningmistwithwinternightfastcomingon？

Andveryluxuriouslyweturnedoncemoreintothelanes，enjoyingthepast，scentingthefuture。Closetohome，thefirstlittleeddyofwindstirred，andthesongofdrippingtwigsbegan；anowlhooted，honey-soft，inthefog。Wecameontwofarmhandsmendingthelaneattheturnoftheavenue，and，curledonthetopofthebank，theircosyredcolliepup，waitingforthemtofinishworkfortheday。

Heraisedhissharpnoseandlookedatusdewily。Weturneddown，paddingsoftlyinthewetfox-reddriftsunderthebeechtrees，whereonthelastleavesstillflickeredoutinthedarkeningwhiteness，thatnowseemedsolittleeerie。Wepassedthegrey-greenskeletonofthefarm-yardgate。Ahenranacrossus，clucking，intothedusk。Themazedrewherlong，home-comingsnuffle，andstoodstill。

1910。

THEPROCESSION

Inoneofthosecornersofourlandcanopiedbythefumesofblindindustry，therewas，onthatday，alullindarkness。Afreshwindhadsplitthecustomaryheaven，orroofofhell；wassweepinglongdriftsofcreamycloudsacrossabluestillpallidwithreek。Thesunevenshone——asunwhosefaceseemedwhiteandwondering。Andunderthatraresunallthelittletown，amongitsslagheapsandfewtallchimneys，hadanairoflivingfaster。Inthosecontinuouscourtsandalleys，wherethewomenworked，smokefromeachlittleforgeroseanddispersedintothewindwithstrangealacrity；amongstthewomen，too，therewasthatsameeagerness，forthesunshinehadcreptinandwasmakingpaleallthosedark-raftered，sootedceilingswhichcoveredthemin，togetherwiththeirimmortalcomrades，thesmallopenfurnaces。Abouttheirworktheyhadbeenbusysinceseveno’clock；theirfeetpressingtheleatherlungswhichfannedtheconicalheapsofglowingfuel，theirhandspokingintotheglowathinironrodtilltheendcouldbecurvedintoafieryhook；

snappingitwithamallet；threadingitwithtongsontothechain；

hammering，closingthelink；and；withoutasecond’spause，thrustingtheironrodagainintotheglow。Andwhiletheyworkedtheychattered，laughedsometimes，nowandthensighed。Theyseemedofallagesandalltypes；fromherwholookedlikeapeasantofProvence，broad，brown，andstrong，totheweariestwhiteconsumptivewisp；fromoldwomenofseventy，withstragglinggreyhair，tofifteen-year-oldgirls。Inthecottageforgestherewouldbebutoneworker，ortwoatmost；intheshopforgesfour，orevenfive，littleglowingheaps；fourorfiveofthegrimy，palelung-bellows；andneveramomentwithoutafieryhookabouttotakeitsplaceonthegrowingchains，neverasecondwhenthethinsmokeoftheforges，andofthoselivesconsumingslowlyinfrontofthem，didnotescapefromoutofthedingy，whitewashedspacespastthedarkrafters，awaytofreedom。

Buttherehadbeenintheairthatmorningsomethingmorethanthewhitesunlight。Therehadbeenanticipation。Andattwoo’clockbeganfulfilment。Theforgeswerestilled，andfromcourtandalleyforthcamethewomen。Intheirraggedworkingclothes，intheirbestclothes——solittledifferent；inbonnets，inhats，bareheaded；withbabiesbornandunborn，theyswarmedintothehighstreetandformedacrossitbehindtheband。Astrange，magpie，jay-likeflock；black，white，patchedwithbrownandgreenandblue，shifting，chattering，laughing，seemingunconsciousofanypurpose。Athousandandmoreofthem，withfacestwistedandscoredbythosemyriaddeformingswhichadesperatetown-toilingandlittlefoodfastenonhumanvisages；yetwithhardlyasingleevilorbrutalface。Seeminglyitwasnoteasytobeevilorbrutalonawagethatscarcelyboundsoulandbody。A

thousandandmoreofthepoorest-paidandhardest-workedhumanbeingsintheworld。

Onthepavementalongsidethisstrange，acquiescingassemblyofrevolt，abouttomarchinprotestagainsttheconditionsoftheirlives，stoodayoungwomanwithoutahatandinpoorclothes，butwithasortofbeautyinherrough-haired，highcheek-boned，dark-

eyedface。Shewasnotoneofthem；yet，byastrokeofNature’sirony，therewasgravenonherfacealoneofallthosefaces，thetruelookofrebellion；ahaughty，almostfierce，uneasylook——anuntamedlook。Onalltheotherthousandfacesonecouldseenobitterness，nofierceness，notevenenthusiasm；onlyahalf-stolid，half-vivaciouspatienceandeagernessasofchildrengoingtoaparty。

Thebandplayed；andtheybegantomarch。

Laughing，talking，wavingflags，tryingtokeepstep；withthesameexpressionslowlybutsurelycomingovereveryface；thefuturewasnot；onlythepresent——thishappypresentofmarchingbehindthediscordanceofabrassband；thisstrangepresentofcrowdedmovementandlaughterinopenair。

Weothers——somedozenaccidentalslikemyself，andthetall，grey-

hairedladyinterestedin"thepeople，"togetherwiththosefewkindspiritsinchargeof"theshow"——marchedtoo，alittleself-

conscious，desiringwithavaguemilitarysensationtoholdourheadsup，butnottoomuch，undertheeyesofthecuriousbystanders。

These——nearlyallmen——werewell-wishers，itwassaid，thoughtheirfaces，palefromtheirownworkinshoporfurnace，expressednothingbutapathy。Theywishedwell，verydumbly，inthepresenceofthisnewthing，asiftheyfounditqueerthatwomenshouldbedoingsomethingforthemselves；queerandratherdangerous。Afew，indeed，shuffledalongbetweenthecolumnandthelittlehopelessshopsandgrimyfactorysheds，andoneortwoaccompaniedtheirwomen，carryingthebaby。Nowandthentherepassedussomebetter-to-docitizen-ahousewife，orlawyer’sclerk，orironmonger，withlipspressedrathertightlytogetherandanairoftakingnonoticeofthisdisturbanceoftraffic，asthoughthewholethingwerearatherpoorjokewhichtheyhadalreadyheardtoooften。

So，withlaughterandacontinualcrackofvoicesourjay-likecrewswungon，swayingandthumpinginthestrangeecstasyofirreflection，happytobemovingtheyknewnotwhere，norgreatlywhy，underthevisitingsun，tothesoundofmurderedmusic。

Wheneverthebandstoppedplaying，disciplinebecameastatterdemalionastheveryflagsandgarments；butneveroncedidtheylosethatlookofessentialorder，asifindeedtheyknewthat，beingtheworst-servedcreaturesintheChristianworld，theywerethechiefguardiansoftheinherentdignityofman。

Hatless，intheveryfrontrow，marchedatallslipofagirl，arrow-

straight，andsothin，withdirtyfairhair，inablouseandskirtgapingbehind，everturningherprettyfaceonitsprettyslimneckfromsidetoside，sothatonecouldseeherblueeyessweepinghere，there，everywhere，withasortofflower-likewildness，asifasecretembracingofeachmomentforbadehertoletthemrestonanythingandbreakthispleasureofjustmarching。Itseemedthatinthenever-stilleyesofthatanaemic，happygirlthespiritofourmarchhadelectedtoenshrineitselfandtomakethenceitslittleexcursionstoeachecstaticfollower。Justbehindhermarchedalittleoldwoman——amakerofchains，theysaid，forfortyyears——

whoseblackslitsofeyesweresparkling，whoflutteredabitofribbon，andreeledwithhersenseoftheexquisitehumouroftheworld。Everynowandthenshewouldmakearushatoneofherleaderstodemonstratehowimmoderatelygloriouswaslife。Andeachtimeshespokethewomannexttoher，ladenwithaheavybaby，wentoffintosquealsoflaughter。Behindher，again，marchedonewhobeattimewithherheadandwavedalittlebitofstick，intoxicatedbythisnoblemusic。

Foranhourthepageantwoundthroughthedejectedstreet，pursuingneithermethodnorsetroute，tillitcametoadesertedslag-heap，selectedforthespeech-making。Slowlythemotleyregimentswungintothatgrimamphitheatreunderthepalesunshine；and，asI

watched，astrangefancyvisitedmybrain。Iseemedtoseeovereveryraggedheadofthosemarchingwomenalittleyellowflame，athin，flickeringgleam，spiringupwardandblownbackbythewind。A

trickofthesunlight，maybe？Orwasitthatthelifeintheirhearts，theinextinguishablebreathofhappiness，hadforamomentescapedprison，andwasflutteringatthepleasureofthebreeze？

Silentnow，justenjoyingthesoundofthewordsthrowndowntothem，theystood，unimaginablypatient，withthathappinessoftheyknewnotwhatgildingtheairabovethembetweenthepatchworkribandsoftheirpoorflags。Iftheycouldnottellverymuchwhytheyhadcome，norbelieveverymuchthattheywouldgainanythingbycoming；

iftheirdemonstrationdidnotmeantotheworldquiteallthatoratorywouldhavethemthink；iftheythemselveswerebutthepoorest，humblest，leastlearnedwomenintheland——forallthat，itseemedtomethatinthosetattered，wistfulfigures，sostill，sotrustful，IwaslookingonsuchbeautyasIhadneverbeheld。Alltheelaboratedgloryofthingsmade，theperfecteddreamsofaesthetes，theembroideriesofromance，seemedasnothingbesidethissuddenvisionofthewildgoodnessnativeinhumblehearts。

【推荐阅读】幽幽深宫，醒来一梦似千年，重生于下堂妃身躯中的她，将如何手刃仇人? 点击阅读