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between the soul and what it loves。 All things on earth have their price；
and for truth we pay the dearest。 We barter it for love and sympathy。 The
road to honour is paved with thorns； but on the path to truth； at every
step you set your foot down on your own heart。
VI。
Then at last a new timethe time of waking； short； sharp； and not
pleasant； as wakings often are。
Sleep and dreams exist on this conditionthat no one wake the dreamer。
And now life takes us up between her finger and thumb； shakes us furiously；
till our poor nodding head is well…nigh rolled from our shoulders； and she
sets us down a little hard on the bare earth； bruised and sore； but
preternaturally wide awake。
We have said in our days of dreaming； 〃Injustice and wrong are a seeming；
pain is a shadow。 Our God； He is real； He who made all things； and He only
is Love。〃
Now life takes us by the neck and shows us a few other things；new…made
graves with the red sand flying about them； eyes that we love with the
worms eating them； evil men walking sleek and fat； the whole terrible
hurly…burly of the thing called life；and she says； 〃What do you think of
these？〃 We dare not say 〃Nothing。〃 We feel them； they are very real。 But
we try to lay our hands about and feel that other thing we felt before。 In
the dark night in the fuel…room we cry to our Beautiful dream…god： 〃Oh；
let us come near you； and lay our head against your feet。 Now in our hour
of need be near us。〃 But He is not there； He is gone away。 The old
questioning devil is there。
We must have been awakened sooner or later。 The imagination cannot always
triumph over reality； the desire over truth。 We must have been awakened。
If it was done a little sharply； what matter？ It was done thoroughly； and
it had to be done。
VII。
And a new life begins for usa new time； a life as cold as that of a man
who sits on the pinnacle of an iceberg and sees the glittering crystals all
about him。 The old looks indeed like a long hot delirium； peopled with
phantasies。 The new is cold enough。
Now we have no God。 We have had two： the old God that our fathers handed
down to us； that we hated； and never liked： the new one that we made for
ourselves； that we loved； but now he has flitted away from us； and we see
what he was made ofthe shadow of our highest ideal； crowned and throned。
Now we have no God。
〃The fool hath said in his heart； There is no God。〃 It may be so。 Most
things said or written have been the work of fools。
This thing is certainhe is a fool who says； 〃No man hath said in his
heart； There is no God。〃
It has been said many thousand times in hearts with profound bitterness of
earnest faith。
We do not cry and weep： we sit down with cold eyes and look at the world。
We are not miserable。 Why should we be？ We eat and drink； and sleep all
night； but the dead are not colder。
And we say it slowly； but without sighing； 〃Yes； we see it now； there is no
God。〃
And； we add； growing a little colder yet。 〃There is no justice。 The ox
dies in the yoke； beneath its master's whip； it turns its anguish…filled
eyes on the sunlight； but there is no sign of recompense to be made it。
The black man is shot like a dog； and it goes well with the shooter。 The
innocent are accused and the accuser triumphs。 If you will take the
trouble to scratch the surface anywhere； you will see under the skin a
sentient being writhing in impotent anguish。〃
And； we say further； and our heart is as the heart of the dead for
coldness； 〃There is no order： all things are driven about by a blind
chance。〃
What a soul drinks in with its mother's milk will not leave it in a day。
From our earliest hour we have been taught that the thought of the heart；
the shaping of the rain…cloud； the amount of wool that grows on a sheep's
back； the length of a drought； and the growing of the corn； depend on
nothing that moves immutable； at the heart of all things； but on the
changeable will of a changeable being； whom our prayers can alter。 To us；
from the beginning； nature has been but a poor plastic thing； to be toyed
with this way or that； as man happens to please his deity or not； to go to
church or not； to say his prayers right or not； to travel on a Sunday or
not。 Was it possible for us in an instant to see Nature as she isthe
flowing vestment of an unchanging reality？ When the soul breaks free from
the arms of a superstition； bits of the claws and talons break themselves
off in him。 It is not the work of a day to squeeze them out。
And so； for us； the human…like driver and guide being gone； all existence；
as we look out at it with our chilled； wondering eyes； is an aimless rise
and swell of shifting waters。 In all that weltering chaos we can see no
spot so large as a man's hand on which we may plant our foot。
Whether a man believes in a human…like God or no is a small thing。 Whether
he looks into the mental and physical world and sees no relation between
cause and effect； no order； but a blind chance sporting； this is the
mightiest fact that can be recorded in any spiritual existence。 It were
almost a mercy to cut his throat； if indeed he does not do it for himself。
We； however； do not cut our throats。 To do so would imply some desire and
feeling； and we have no desire and no feeling； we are only cold。 We do not
wish to live； and we do not wish to die。 One day a snake curls itself
round the waist of a Kaffer woman。 We take it in our hand； swing it round
and round； and fling it on the grounddead。 Every one looks at us with
eyes of admiration。 We almost laugh。 Is it wonderful to risk that for
which we care nothing？
In truth； nothing matters。 This dirty little world full of confusion； and
the blue rag； stretched overhead for a sky； is so low we could touch it
with our hand。
Existence is a great pot； and the old Fate who stirs it round cares nothing
what rises to the top and what goes down； and laughs when the bubbles
burst。 And we do not care。 Let it boil about。 Why should we trouble
ourselves？ Nevertheless the physical sensations are real。 Hunger hurts；
and thirst； therefore we eat and drink： inaction pains us； therefore we
work like galley…slaves。 No one demands it； but we set ourselves to build
a great dam in red sand beyond the graves。 In the grey dawn before the
sheep are let out we work at it。 All day； while the young ostriches we
tend feed about us； we work on through the fiercest heat。 The people
wonder what new spirit has seized us now。 They do not know we are working
for life。 We bear the greatest stones； and feel a satisfaction when we
stagger under them； and are hurt by a pang that shoots through our chest。
While we eat our dinner we carry on baskets full of earth； as though the
devil drove us。 The Kaffer servants have a story that at night a witch and
two white oxen come to help us。 No wall； they say； could grow so quickly
under one man's hands。
At night； alone in our cabin； we sit no more brooding over the fire。 What
should we think of now？ All is emptiness。 So we take the old arithmetic；
and the multiplication table； which with so much pains we learnt long ago
and forgot directly； we learn now in a few hours； and never forget again。
We take a strange satisfaction in working arithmetical problems。 We pause
in our building to cover the stones with figures and calculations。 We save
money for a Latin Grammar and Algebra； and carry them about in our pockets；
poring over them as over our Bible of old。 We have thought we were utterly
stupid； incapable of remembering anything； of learning anything。 Now we
find that all is easy。 Has a new soul crept into this old body； that even
our intellectual faculties are changed？ We marvel； not perceiving that
what a man expends in prayer and ecstasy he cannot have over for acquiring
knowledge。 You never shed a tear； or create a beautiful image； or quiver
with emotion； but you pay for it at the practical； calculating end of your
nature。 You have just so much force： when the one channel runs over the
other runs dry。
And now we turn to Nature。 All these years we have lived beside her； and
we have never seen her； and now we open our eyes and look at her。
The rocks have been to us a blur of brown： we bend over them； and the
disorganised masses dissolve into a many…coloured； many…shaped； carefully…
arranged form of existence。 Here masses of rainbow…tinted crystals； half…
fused together； there bands of smooth grey and red methodically overlying
each other。 This rock here is covered with a delicate silver tracery； in
some mineral； resembling leaves and branches； there on the flat stone； on
which we so often have sat to weep and pray； we look down； and see it
covered with the fossil footprints of great birds； and the beautiful
skeleton of a fish。 We have often tried to picture in our min