rusty…red　iron　cluking　on　pointless　carts；　high　white　wool…
  packs；　grey　horses；　bay　horses；　black　teams；　sunlight　sparkling
  on　brass　harness；　gleaming　from　carriage　panels；　jingle；　jingle；
  jingle！　An　intermixed　and　intertangled；　ceaselessly　changing　jingle；　too；of
  colour；　flecks　of　colour　champed；　as　it　were；　like　bits　in　the　horses'
  teeth；　frothed　and　strewn　about；　and　a　surface　always　of　dark…dressed　people
  winding　like　the　curves　on　fast…flowing　water。　This　is　the　vortex　and
  whirlpool；　the　centre　of　human　life　today　on　the　earth。　　Now　the　tide　rises
  and　now　it　sinks；　but　the　flow　of　these　rivers　always　continues。　Here　it
  seethes　and　whirls；　not　for　an　hour　only；　but　for　all　present　time；　hour　by
  hour；　day　by　day；　year　by　year。
  Here　it　rushes　and　pushes；　the　atoms　triturate　and　grind；　and；
  eagerly　thrusting　by；　pursue　their　separate　ends。　Here　it
  appears　in　its　unconcealed　personality；　indifferent　to　all　else
  but　itself；　absorbed　and　rapt　in　eager　self；　devoid　and　stripped
  of　conventional　gloss　and　politeness；　yielding　only　to　get　its　own　way；
  driving；　pushing；　carried　on　in　a　stress　of　feverish　force　like　a　bullet；
  dynamic　force　apart　from　reason　or　will；　like　the　force　that　lifts　the　tides
  and　sends　the　clouds　onwards。　The　friction　of　a　thousand　interests　evolves　a
  condition　of　electricity　in　which　men　are　moved　to　and　fro　without
  considering　their　steps。　　Yet　the　agitated　pool　of　life　is　stonily
  indifferent；　the　thought　is　absent　or　preoccupied；　for　it　is　evident　that
  the　mass　are　unconscious　of　the　scene　in
  which　they　act。
  But　it　is　more　sternly　real　than　the　very　stones；　for　all　these
  men　and　women　that　pass　through　are　driven　on　by　the　push　of
  accumulated　circumstances；　they　cannot　stay；　they　must　go；
  their　necks　are　in　the　slave's　ring；　they　are　beaten　like
  seaweed　against　the　solid　walls　of　fact。　In　ancient　times；
  Xerxes；　the　king　of　kings；　looking　down　upon　his　myriads；　wept　to　think　that
  in　a　hundred　years　not　one　of　them　would　be　left。　　Where　will　be　these
  millions　of　to…day　in　a　hundred　years？　But；　further　than　that；　let　us　ask；
  Where　then　will　be　the　sum　and　outcome　of　their　labour？　　If　they　wither　away
  like　summer　grass；　will　not　at　least　a　result　be　left　which　those　of　a
  hundred　years　hence　may　be　the　better　for？　No；　not　one　jot！　There　will　not
  be　any　sum　or　outcome　or　result　of　this　ceaseless　labour　and　movement；　it
  vanishes　in　the　moment　that　it　is　done；　and　in　a　hundred　years　nothing　will
  be　there；　for　nothing　is　there　now。　There　will　be　no　more　sum　or　result　than
  accumulates　from　the　motion　of　a　revolving　cowl　on　a　housetop。　　Nor　do　they
  receive　any　more　sunshine　during　their　lives；　for　they　are　unconscious　of
  the　sun。
  I　used　to　come　and　stand　near　the　apex　of　the　promontory　of　pavement　which
  juts　out　towards　the　pool　of　life；　I　still　go　there　to　ponder。　　Burning　in
  the　sky；　the　sun　shone　on　me　as　when　I　rested　in　the　narrow　valley　carved　in
  prehistoric　time。
  Burning　in　the　sky；　I　can　never　forget　the　sun。　The　heat　of　summer　is　dry
  there　as　if　the　light　carried　an　impalpable　dust；　dry；　breathless　heat　that
  will　not　let　the　skin　respire；　but
  swathes　up　the　dry　fire　in　the　blood。　But　beyond　the　heat　and　light；　I　felt
  the　presence　of　the　sun　as　I　felt　it　in　the　solitary　valley；　the　presence　of
  the　resistless　forces　of　the
  universe；　the　sun　burned　in　the　sky　as　I　stood　and　pondered。　　Is　there　any
  theory；　philosophy；　or　creed；　is　there　any　system　or
  culture；　any　formulated　method　able　to　meet　and　satisfy　each　separate　item
  of　this　agitated　pool　of　human　life？　By　which　they　may　be　guided；　by　which
  hope；　by　which　look　forward？　Not　a　mere　illusion　of　the　craven
  heartsomething　real；　as　real　as　the　solid　walls　of　fact　against　which；
  like　drifted　sea…weed；　they　are　dashed；　something　to　give　each　separate
  personality　sunshine　and　a　flower　in　its　own　existence　now；　something　to
  shape　this　million…handed　labour　to　an　end　and　outcome　that　will　leave　more
  sunshine　and　more　flowers　to　those　who　must　succeed？　Something　real　now；　and
  not　in　the　spirit…land；　in　this　hour　now；　as　I　stand　and　the　sun　burns。　Can
  any　creed；　philosophy；　system；　or　culture　endure　the　test　and　remain
  unmolten　in　this　fierce　focus　ofhuman　life？
  Consider；　is　there　anything　slowly　painted　on　the　once　mystic　and　now
  commonplace　papyri　of　ancient；　ancient　Egypt；　held　on　the　mummy's　withered
  breast？　In　that　elaborate　ritual；　in　the　procession　of　the　symbols；　in　the
  winged　circle；　in　the　laborious　sarcophagus？　Nothing；　absolutely　nothing！
  Before　the
  fierce　heat　of　the　human　furnace；　the　papyri　smoulder　away　as　paper
  smoulders　under　a　lens　in　the　sun。　Remember　Nineveh　and
  the　cult　of　the　fir…cone；　the　turbaned　and　bearded　bulls　of
  stone；　the　lion　hunt；　the　painted　chambers　loaded　with　tile
  books；　the　lore　of　the　arrow…headed　writing。　What　is　in
  Assyria？　There　are　sand；　and　failing　rivers；　and　in　Assyria's
  writings　an　utter　nothing。　The　aged　caves　of　India；　who　shall
  tell　when　they　were　sculptured？　Far　back　when　the　sun　was
  burning；　burning　in　the　sky　as　now　in　untold　precedent　time。
  Is　there　any　meaning　in　those　ancient　caves？　The　indistinguish…able　noise
  not　to　be　resolved；　born　of　the　human　struggle；　mocks　in　answer。
  In　the　strange　characters　of　the　Zend；　in　the　Sanscrit；　in　the
  effortless　creed　of　Confucius；　in　the　Aztec　coloured…string
  writings　and　rayed　stones；　in　the　uncertain　marks　left　of　the
  sunken　Polynesian　continent；　hieroglyphs　as　useless　as　those　of
  Memphis；　nothing。　Nothing！　They　have　been　tried；　and　were　found　an　illusion。
  Think　then；　to…day；　now　looking　from　this　apex
  of　the　pavement　promontory　outwards　from　our　own　land　to　the　utmost　bounds
  of　the　farthest　sail；　is　there　any　faith　or　culture　at　this　hour　which　can
  stand　in　this　fierce　heat？　From　the　various　forms　of　Semitic；　Aryan；　or
  Turanian　creed　now　existing；　from　the　printing…press　to　the　palm…leaf　volume
  on　to　those　who　call　on　the　jewel　in　the　lotus；　can　aught　be　gathered　which
  can　face　this；　the　Reality？　The　indistinguishable　noise；　non…resolvable；
  roars　a　loud　contempt。
  Turn；　then；　to　the　calm　reasoning　of　Aristotle；　is　there
  anything　in　that？　Can　the　half…divine　thought　of　Plato；　rising
  in　storeys　of　sequential　ideas；　following　each　other　to　the
  conclusion；　endure　here？　No！　All　the　philosophers　in　Diogenes
  Laertius　fade　away：　the　theories　of　medimval　days；　the　organon
  of　experiment；　down　to　this　hourthey　are　useless　alike。　The
  science　of　this　hour；　drawn　from　the　printing…press　in　an　endless　web　of
  paper；　is　powerless　here；　the　indistinguishable　noise　echoed　from　the
  smoke…shadowed　walls　despises　the　whole。　A　thousand　footsteps；　a　thousand
  hoofs；　a　thousand　wheels　roll　over　and　utterly　contemn　them　in　complete
  annihilation。　Mere　illusions　of　heart　or　mind；　they　are　tested　and　thrust
  aside　by　the　irresistible　push　of　a　million　converging　feet。
  Burning　in　the　sky；　the　sun　shines　as　it　shone　on　me　in　the
  solitary　valley；　as　it　burned　on　when　the　earliest　cave　of　India
  was　carved。　Above　the　indistinguishable　roar　of　the　many　feet　I
  feel　the　presence　of　the　sun；　of　the　immense　forces　of　the
  universe；　and　beyond　these　the　sense　of　the　eternal　now；　of　the
  immortal。　Full　well　aware　that　all　has　failed；　yet；　side　by
  side　with　the　sadness　of　that　knowledge；　there　lives　on　in　me　an
  unquenchable　belief；　thought　burning　like　the　sun；　that　there　is　yet
  something　to　be　found；　something　real；　something　to　give　each　separate
  personality　sunshine　and　flowers　in　its　own　existence　now。　Something　to
  shape　this　million…handed　labour　to　an　end　and　outcome；　leaving　accumulated
  sunshine　and　flowers　to　those　who　shall　succeed。　It　must　be　dragged　forth　by
  might　of　thought　from　the　immense　forces　of　the　universe。
  To　prepare　for　such　an　effort；　first　the　mind　must　be　cleared　of
  the　conceit　that；　because　we　live　to…day；　we　are　wiser　than　the
  ages　gone。　The　mind　must　acknowledge　its　ignorance；　all　the
  learning　and　lore　of　so　many　eras　must　be　erased　from　it　as　an
  encumbrance。　It　is　not　from　past　or　present　knowledge；　science
  or　faith；　that　it　is　to　be　drawn。　Erase　these　altogether　as　they　are　erased
  under　the　fierce　heat　of　the　focus　before　me。　Begin　wholly　afresh。　Go
  straight　to　the　sun；　the　immense　forces　of　the　universe；　to　the　Entity
  unknown；　go　higher　than　a　god；　deeper　than　prayer；　and　open　a　new　day。　That
  I　might　but　have　a　fragment　of　Caesar's　intellect　to　find　a　fragment　of　this
  desire！
  》From　my　home　near　London　I　made　a　pilgrimage　almost　daily　to　an
  aspen　by　a　brook。　It　was　a　mile　and　a　quarter　along　the　road；
  far　enough　for　me　to　walk　off　the　concentration　of　mind
  necessary　for　work。　The　idea　of　the　pilgrimage　was　to　get　away
  from　the　endless　and　nameless　circumstances　of　everyday
  existence；　which　by　degrees　build　a　wall　about　the　mind　so　that
  it　travels　in　a　constantly　narrowing　circle。　This　tether　of　the
  faculties　tends　to　make　them　accept　present　knowledge；　and
  present　things；　as　all　that　can　be　attained　to。　This　is　all
  there　is　nothing　moreis　the　iterated　preaching　of　house…life。
  Remain；　becontent；　go　round　and　round　in　one　barren　path；　a
  little　money；　a　little　food　and　sleep；　some　ancient　fables；
  old　age　and　death。　Of　all　the　inventions　of　casuistry