ys　of　superstition　are　a　farce：　　the　earth　is　of　ashes；　the　trees　all　rotten；　but　wefeel　uswe　live！　　You　cannot　doubt　us。　　Feel　us　how　warm　we　are！　　Oh；　come　to　us！　　Come　with　us！〃
  Nearer　and　nearer　round　his　head　they　hovered；　and　the　cold　drops　melted　on　his　forehead。　　The　bright　light　shot　into　his　eyes；　dazzling　him；　and　the　frozen　blood　began　to　run。　　And　he　said：
  〃Yes；　why　should　I　die　here　in　this　awful　darkness？　　They　are　warm；　they　melt　my　frozen　blood！〃　and　he　stretched　out　his　hands　to　take　them。
  Then　in　a　moment　there　arose　before　him　the　image　of　the　thing　he　had　loved；　and　his　hand　dropped　to　his　side。
  〃Oh；　come　to　us！〃　they　cried。
  But　he　buried　his　face。
  〃You　dazzle　my　eyes；〃　he　cried；　〃you　make　my　heart　warm；　but　you　cannot　give　me　what　I　desire。　　I　will　wait　herewait　till　I　die。　　Go！〃
  He　covered　his　face　with　his　hands　and　would　not　listen；　and　when　he　looked　up　again　they　were　two　twinkling　stars；　that　vanished　in　the　distance。
  And　the　long；　long　night　rolled　on。
  All　who　leave　the　valley　of　superstition　pass　through　that　dark　land；　but　some　go　through　it　in　a　few　days；　some　linger　there　for　months；　some　for　years；　and　some　die　there。
  At　last　for　the　hunter　a　faint　light　played　along　the　horizon；　and　he　rose　to　follow　it；　and　he　reached　that　light　at　last；　and　stepped　into　the　broad　sunshine。　　Then　before　him　rose　the　almighty　mountains　of　Dry…facts　and　Realities。　　The　clear　sunshine　played　on　them；　and　the　tops　were　lost　in　the　clouds。　　At　the　foot　many　paths　ran　up。　　An　exultant　cry　burst　from　the　hunter。　　He　chose　the　straightest　and　began　to　climb；　and　the　rocks　and　ridges　resounded　with　his　song。　　They　had　exaggerated；　after　all；　it　was　not　so　high；　nor　was　the　road　so　steep！　　A　few　days；　a　few　weeks；　a　few　months　at　most；　and　then　the　top！　　Not　one　feather　only　would　he　pick　up；　he　would　gather　all　that　other　men　had　foundweave　the　netcapture　Truth…　…hold　her　fasttouch　her　with　his　handsclasp　her！
  He　laughed　in　the　merry　sunshine；　and　sang　loud。　　Victory　was　very　near。　　Nevertheless；　after　a　while　the　path　grew　steeper。　　He　needed　all　his　breath　for　climbing；　and　the　singing　died　away。　　On　the　right　and　left　rose　huge　rocks；　devoid　of　lichen　or　moss；　and　in　the　lava…like　earth　chasms　yawned。　　Here　and　there　he　saw　a　sheen　of　white　bones。　　Now　too　the　path　began　to　grow　less　and　less　marked；　then　it　became　a　mere　trace；　with　a　footmark　here　and　there；　then　it　ceased　altogether。　　He　sang　no　more；　but　struck　forth　a　path　for　himself；　until　it　reached　a　mighty　wall　of　rock；　smooth　and　without　break；　stretching　as　far　as　the　eye　could　see。　　〃I　will　rear　a　stair　against　it；　and；　once　this　wall　climbed；　I　shall　be　almost　there；〃　he　said　bravely；　and　worked。　　With　his　shuttle　of　imagination　he　dug　out　stones；　but　half　of　them　would　not　fit；　and　half　a　month's　work　would　roll　down　because　those　below　were　ill　chosen。　　But　the　hunter　worked　on；　saying　always　to　himself；　〃Once　this　wall　climbed；　I　shall　be　almost　there。　　This　great　work　ended！〃
  At　last　he　came　out　upon　the　top；　and　he　looked　about　him。　　Far　below　rolled　the　white　mist　over　the　valleys　of　superstition；　and　above　him　towered　the　mountains。　　They　had　seemed　low　before；　they　were　of　an　immeasurable　height　now；　from　crown　to　foundation　surrounded　by　walls　of　rock；　that　rose　tier　above　tier　in　mighty　circles。　　Upon　them　played　the　eternal　sunshine。　　He　uttered　a　wild　cry。　　He　bowed　himself　on　to　the　earth；　and　when　he　rose　his　face　was　white。　　In　absolute　silence　he　walked　on。　　He　was　very　silent　now。　　In　those　high　regions　the　rarefied　air　is　hard　to　breathe　by　those　born　in　the　valleys；　every　breath　he　drew　hurt　him；　and　the　blood　oozed　out　from　the　tips　of　his　fingers。　　Before　the　next　wall　of　rock　he　began　to　work。　　The　height　of　this　seemed　infinite；　and　he　said　nothing。　　The　sound　of　his　tool　rang　night　and　day　upon　the　iron　rocks　into　which　he　cut　steps。　　Years　passed　over　him；　yet　he　worked　on；　but　the　wall　towered　up　always　above　him　to　heaven。　　Sometimes　he　prayed　that　a　little　moss　or　lichen　might　spring　up　on　those　bare　walls　to　be　a　companion　to　him；　but　it　never　came。
  And　the　years　rolled　on；　he　counted　them　by　the　steps　he　had　cuta　few　for　a　yearonly　a　few。　　He　sang　no　more；　he　said　no　more；　〃I　will　do　this　or　that〃he　only　worked。　　And　at　night；　when　the　twilight　settled　down；　there　looked　out　at　him　from　the　holes　and　crevices　in　the　rocks　strange　wild　faces。
  〃Stop　your　work；　you　lonely　man；　and　speak　to　us；〃　they　cried。
  〃My　salvation　is　in　work；　if　I　should　stop　but　for　one　moment　you　would　creep　down　upon　me；〃　he　replied。　　And　they　put　out　their　long　necks　further。
  〃Look　down　into　the　crevice　at　your　feet；〃　they　said。　　〃See　what　lie　there…　…white　bones！　　As　brave　and　strong　a　man　as　you　climbed　to　these　rocks。〃　　And　he　looked　up。　　He　saw　there　was　no　use　in　striving；　he　would　never　hold　Truth；　never　see　her；　never　find　her。　　So　he　lay　down　here；　for　he　was　very　tired。　　He　went　to　sleep　forever。　　He　put　himself　to　sleep。　　Sleep　is　very　tranquil。　　You　are　not　lonely　when　you　are　asleep；　neither　do　your　hands　ache；　nor　your　heart。　　And　the　hunter　laughed　between　his　teeth。
  〃Have　I　torn　from　my　heart　all　that　was　dearest；　have　I　wandered　alone　in　the　land　of　night；　have　I　resisted　temptation；　have　I　dwelt　where　the　voice　of　my　kind　is　never　heard；　and　laboured　alone；　to　lie　down　and　be　food　for　you；　ye　harpies？〃
  He　laughed　fiercely；　and　the　Echoes　of　Despair　slunk　away；　for　the　laugh　of　a　brave；　strong　heart　is　as　a　death　blow　to　them。
  Nevertheless　they　crept　out　again　and　looked　at　him。
  〃Do　you　know　that　your　hair　is　white？〃　they　said；　〃that　your　hands　begin　to　tremble　like　a　child's？　　Do　you　see　that　the　point　of　your　shuttle　is　gone？it　is　cracked　already。　　If　you　should　ever　climb　this　stair；〃　they　said；　〃it　will　be　your　last。　　You　will　never　climb　another。〃
  And　he　answered；　〃I　know　it！〃　and　worked　on。
  The　old；　thin　hands　cut　the　stones　ill　and　jaggedly；　for　the　fingers　were　stiff　and　bent。　　The　beauty　and　the　strength　of　the　man　was　gone。
  At　last；　an　old；　wizened；　shrunken　face　looked　out　above　the　rocks。　　It　saw　the　eternal　mountains　rise　with　walls　to　the　white　clouds；　but　its　work　was　done。
  The　old　hunter　folded　his　tired　hands　and　lay　down　by　the　precipice　where　he　had　worked　away　his　life。　　It　was　the　sleeping　time　at　last。　　Below　him　over　the　valleys　rolled　the　thick　white　mist。　　Once　it　broke；　and　through　the　gap　the　dying　eyes　looked　down　on　the　trees　and　fields　of　their　childhood。　　From　afar　seemed　borne　to　him　the　cry　of　his　own　wild　birds；　and　he　heard　the　noise　of　people　singing　as　they　danced。　　And　he　thought　he　heard　among　them　the　voices　of　his　old　comrades；　and　he　saw　far　off　the　sunlight　shine　on　his　early　home。　　And　great　tears　gathered　in　the　hunter's　eyes。
  〃Ah！　they　who　die　there　do　not　die　alone；〃　he　cried。
  Then　the　mists　rolled　together　again；　and　he　turned　his　eyes　away。
  〃I　have　sought；〃　he　said；　〃for　long　years　I　have　laboured；　but　I　have　not　found　her。　　I　have　not　rested；　I　have　not　repined；　and　I　have　not　seen　her；　now　my　strength　is　gone。　　Where　I　lie　down　worn　out　other　men　will　stand；　young　and　fresh。　　By　the　steps　that　I　have　cut　they　will　climb；　by　the　stairs　that　I　have　built　they　will　mount。　　They　will　never　know　the　name　of　the　man　who　made　them。　　At　the　clumsy　work　they　will　laugh；　when　the　stones　roll　they　will　curse　me。　　But　they　will　mount；　and　on　my　work；　they　will　climb；　and　by　my　stair！　　They　will　find　her；　and　through　me！　　And　no　man　liveth　to　himself　and　no　man　dieth　to　himself。〃
  The　tears　rolled　from　beneath　the　shrivelled　eyelids。　　If　Truth　had　appeared　above　him　in　the　clouds　now　he　could　not　have　seen　her；　the　mist　of　death　was　in　his　eyes。
  〃My　soul　hears　their　glad　step　coming；〃　he　said；　〃and　they　shall　mount！　they　shall　mount！〃　　He　raised　his　shrivelled　hand　to　his　eyes。
  Then　slowly　from　the　white　sky　above；　through　the　still　air；　came　something　falling；　falling；　falling。　　Softly　it　fluttered　down；　and　dropped　on　to　the　breast　of　the　dying　man。　　He　felt　it　with　his　hands。　　It　was　a　feather。　　He　died　holding　it。
  III。　　THE　GARDENS　OF　PLEASURE。
  She　walked　upon　the　beds；　and　the　sweet　rich　scent　arose；　and　she　gathered　her　hands　full　of　flowers。　　Then　Duty；　with　his　white　clear　features；　came　and　looked　at　her。　　Then　she　ceased　from　gathering；　but　she　walked　away　among　the　flowers；　smiling；　and　with　her　hands　full。
  Then　Duty；　with　his　still　white　face；　came　again；　and　looked　at　her；　but　she；　she　turned　her　head　away　from　him。　　At　last　she　saw　his　face；　and　she　dropped　the　fairest　of　the　flowers　she　had　held；　and　walked　silently　away。
  Then　again　he　came　to　her。　　And　she　moaned；　and　bent　her　head　low；　and　turned　to　the　gate。　　But　as　she　went　out　she　looked　back　at　the　sunlight　on　the　faces　of　the　flowers；　and　wept　in　anguish。　　Then　she　went　out；　and　it　shut　behind　her　for　ever；　but　still　in　her　hand　she　held　of　the　buds　she　had　gathered；　and　the　scent　was　very　sweet　in　the　lonely　desert。
  But　he　followed　her。　　Once　more　he　stood　before　her　with　his　still；　white；　death…like　face。　　And　she　knew　what　he　had　come　for：　　she　unbent　the　fingers；　and　let　the　flowers　drop　out；　the　flowers　she　had　loved　so；　an