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to mean； the thought of it does not trouble me over much。 Meanwhile
what I seek is the vision of those I love。
Now I have this power。 Occasionally when I am in deep sleep some part
of me seems to leave my body and to be transported quite outside the
world。 It travels； as though I were already dead； to the Gates that
all who live must pass； and there takes its stand； on the Great White
Road； watching those who have been called speed by continually。 Those
upon the earth know nothing of that Road。 Blinded by their pomps and
vanities； they cannot see； they will not see it always growing towards
the feet of every one of them。 But I see and know。 Of course you who
read will say that this is but a dream of mine； and it may be。 Still；
if so； it is a very wonderful dream； and except for the change of the
passing people； or rather of those who have been people； always very
much the same。
There； straight as the way of the Spirit and broad as the breast of
Death； is the Great White Road running I know not whence； up to those
Gates that gleam like moonlight and are higher than the Alps。 There
beyond the Gates the radiant Presences move mysteriously。 Thence at
the appointed time the Voice cries and they are opened with a sound
like to that of deepest thunder； or sometimes are burned away； while
from the Glory that lies beyond flow the sweet…faced welcomers to
greet those for whom they wait； bearing the cups from which they give
to drink。 I do not know what is in the cups； whether it be a draught
of Lethe or some baptismal water of new birth； or both； but always the
thirsting； world…worn soul appears to change； and then as it were to
be lost in the Presence that gave the cup。 At least they are lost to
my sight。 I see them no more。
Why do I watch those Gates； in truth or in dream； before my time？ Oh！
You can guess。 That perchance I may behold those for whom my heart
burns with a quenchless； eating fire。 And once I beheldnot the
mother but the child； my child； changed indeed； mysterious； wonderful；
gleaming like a star； with eyes so deep that in their depths my
humanity seemed to swoon。
She came forward； she knew me； she smiled and laid her finger on her
lips。 She shook her hair about her and in it vanished as in a cloud。
Yet as she vanished a voice spoke in my heart； her voice； and the
words it said were
〃Wait； our Beloved！ Wait！〃
Mark well。 〃Our Beloved；〃 not 〃My Beloved。〃 So there are others by
whom I am beloved； or at least one other； and I know well who that one
must be。
*****
After this dream； perhaps I had better call it a dream； I was ill for
a long while； for the joy and the glory of it overpowered me and
brought me near to the death I had always sought。 But I recovered； for
my hour is not yet。 Moreover； for a long while as we reckon time； some
years indeed； I obeyed the injunction and sought the Great White Road
no more。 At length the longing grew too strong for me and I returned
thither； but never again did the vision come。 Its word was spoken； its
mission was fulfilled。 Yet from time to time I； a mortal； seem to
stand upon the borders of that immortal Road and watch the newly dead
who travel it towards the glorious Gates。
Once or twice there have been among them people whom I have known。 As
these pass me I appear to have the power of looking into their hearts；
and there I read strange things。 Sometimes they are beautiful things
and sometimes ugly things。 Thus I have learned that those I thought
bad were really good in the main； for who can claim to be quite good？
And on the other hand that those I believed to be as honest as the day
well； had their faults。
To take an example which I quote because it is so absurd。 The rooms I
live in were owned by a prim old woman who for more than twenty years
was my landlady。 She and I were great friends； indeed she tended me
like a mother； and when I was so ill nursed me as perhaps few mothers
would have done。 Yet while I was watching on the Road suddenly she
came by； and with horror I saw that during all those years she had
been robbing me； taking； I am sorry to say； many things； in money；
trinkets； and food。 Often I had discussed with her where these
articles could possibly have gone； till finally suspicion settled upon
the man who cleaned the windows。 Yes； and worst of all； he was
prosecuted； and I gave evidence against him； or rather strengthened
her evidence； on faith of which the magistrate sent him to prison for
a month。
〃Oh！ Mrs Smithers；〃 I said to her； 〃how /could/ you do it； Mrs。
Smithers？〃
She stopped and looked about her terrified； so that my heart smote me
and I added in haste； 〃Don't be frightened； Mrs。 Smithers； I forgive
you。〃
〃I can't see you； sir；〃 she exclaimed； or so I dreamed； 〃but there！ I
always knew you would。〃
〃Yes； Mrs。 Smithers；〃 I replied； 〃but how about the window…cleaner who
went to jail and lost his situation？〃
Then she passed on or was drawn away without making any answer。
Now comes the odd part of the story。 When I woke up on the following
morning in my rooms； it was to be informed by the frightened maid…of…
all…work that Mrs。 Smithers had been found dead in her bed。 Moreover；
a few days later I learned from a lawyer that she had made a will
leaving me everything she possessed； including the lease of her house
and nearly ￡1000； for she had been a saving old person during all her
long life。
Well； I sought out that window…cleaner and compensated him handsomely；
saying that I had found I was mistaken in the evidence I gave against
him。 The rest of the property I kept； and I hope that it was not wrong
of me to do so。 It will be remembered that some of it was already my
own； temporarily diverted into another channel； and for the rest I
have so many to help。 To be frank I do not spend much upon myself。
THE HARE
Now I have done with myself； or rather with my own insignificant
present history； and come to that of the Hare。 It impressed me a good
deal at the time； which is not long ago； so much indeed that I
communicated the facts to Jorsen。 He ordered me to publish them； and
what Jorsen orders must be done。 I don't know why this should be； but
it is so。 He has authority of a sort that I am unable to define。
One night after the usual aspirations and concentration of mind； which
by the way are not always successful； I passed into what occultists
call spirit； and others a state of dream。 At any rate I found myself
upon the borders of the Great White Road； as near to the mighty Gates
as I am ever allowed to come。 How far that may be away I cannot tell。
Perhaps it is but a few yards and perhaps it is the width of this
great world； for in that place which my spirit visits time and
distance do not exist。 There all things are new and strange； not to be
reckoned by our measures。 There the sight is not our sight nor the
hearing our hearing。 I repeat that all things are different； but that
difference I cannot describe； and if I could it would prove past
comprehension。
There I sat by the borders of the Great White Road； my eyes fixed upon
the Gates above which the towers mount for miles on miles； outlined
against an encircling gloom with the radiance of the world beyond the
worlds。 Four…square they stand； those towers； and fourfold the gates
that open to the denizens of other earths。 But of these I have no
knowledge beyond the fact that it is so in my visions。
I sat upon the borders of the Road； my eyes fixed in hope upon the
Gates； though well I knew that the hope would never be fulfilled； and
watched the dead go by。
They were many that night。 Some plague was working in the East and
unchaining thousands。 The folk that it loosed were strange to me who
in this particular life have seldom left England； and I studied them
with curiosity； high…featured； dark…hued people with a patient air。
The knowledge which I have told me that one and all they were very
ancient souls who often and often had walked this Road before； and
therefore； although as yet they did not know it； were well accustomed
to the journey。 No； I am wrong； for here and there an individual did
know。 Indeed one deep…eyed； wistful little woman； who carried a baby
in her arms； stopped for a moment and spoke to me。
〃The others cannot see you as I do；〃 she said。 〃Priest of the Queen of
queens； I know you well； hand in hand we climbed by the seven
stairways to the altars of the moon。〃
〃Who is the Queen of queens？〃 I asked。
〃Have you forgotten her of the hundred names whose veils we lifted one
by one； her whose breast was beauty and whose eyes were truth？ In a
day to come you will remember。 Farewell till we walk this Road no
more。〃
〃Staywhen did we meet？〃
〃When our souls were young；〃 she answered； and faded from my ken like
a shadow from the sea。
After the Easterns came many others from all parts of the earth。 Then
suddenly appeared a company of about six hundred folk of every age and
English in their looks。 They were not so calm as are the majority of
those who make this journey。 When I read the papers a few days later I
understood why。 A great passenger ship had sunk suddenly in mid ocean
and they were all cut off unprepared。
Wh