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on to the breast of the dying man。 He felt it with his hands。 It was a
feather。 He died holding it。〃
The boy had shaded his eyes with his hand。 On the wood of the carving
great drops fell。 The stranger must have laughed at him； or remained
silent。 He did so。
〃How did you know it？〃 the boy whispered at last。 〃It is not written
therenot on that wood。 How did you know it？〃
〃Certainly；〃 said the stranger； 〃the whole of the story is not written
here； but it is suggested。 And the attribute of all true art； the highest
and the lowest； is thisthat it rays more than it says； and takes you away
from itself。 It is a little door that opens into an infinite hall where
you may find what you please。 Men； thinking to detract； say： 'People read
more in this or that work of genius than was ever written in it；' not
perceiving that they pay the highest compliment。 If we pick up the finger
and nail of a real man； we can decipher a whole storycould almost
reconstruct the creature again； from head to foot。 But half the body of a
Mumboo…jumbow idol leaves us utterly in the dark as to what the rest was
like。 We see what we see； but nothing more。 There is nothing so
universally intelligible as truth。 It has a thousand meanings； and
suggests a thousand more。〃
He turned over the wooden thing。
〃Though a man should carve it into matter with the least possible
manipulative skill； it will yet find interpreters。 It is the soul that
looks out with burning eyes through the most gross fleshly filament。
Whosoever should portray truly the life and death of a little flowerits
birth； sucking in of nourishment； reproduction of its kind； withering and
vanishingwould have shaped a symbol of all existence。 All true facts of
nature or the mind are related。 Your little carving represents some mental
facts as they really are； therefore fifty different true stories might be
read from it。 What your work wants is not truth； but beauty of external
form； the other half of art。〃 He leaned almost gently toward the boy。
〃Skill may come in time； but you will have to work hard。 The love of
beauty and the desire for it must be born in a man； the skill to reproduce
it he must make。 He must work hard。〃
〃All my life I have longed to see you；〃 the boy said。
The stranger broke off the end of his cigar； and lit it。 The boy lifted
the heavy wood from the stranger's knee and drew yet nearer him。 In the
dog…like manner of his drawing near there was something superbly
ridiculous； unless one chanced to view it in another light。 Presently the
stranger said； whiffing； 〃Do something for me。〃
The boy started up。
〃No； stay where you are。 I don't want you to go anyowhere； I want you to
talk to me。 Tell me what you have been doing all your life。〃
The boy slunk down again。 Would that the man had asked him to root up
bushes with his hands for his horse to feed on； or to run to the far end of
the plain for the fossils that lay there； or to gather the flowers that
grew on the hills at the edge of the plain； he would have run and been back
quicklybut now！
〃I have never done anything；〃 he said。
〃Then tell me of that nothing。 I like to know what other folks have been
doing whose word I can believe。 It is interesting。 What was the first
thing you ever wanted very much？〃
The boy waited to remember； then began hesitatingly； but soon the words
flowed。 In the smallest past we find an inexhaustible mine when once we
begin to dig at it。
A confused； disordered storythe little made large and the large small；
and nothing showing its inward meaning。 It is not till the past has
receded many steps that before the clearest eyes it falls into co…ordinate
pictures。 It is not till the I we tell of has ceased to exist that it
takes its place among other objective realities； and finds its true niche
in the picture。 The present and the near past is a confusion； whose
meaning flashes on us as it slinks away into the distance。
The stranger lit one cigar from the end of another； and puffed and listened
with half…closed eyes。
〃I will remember more to tell you if you like；〃 said the boy。
He spoke with that extreme gravity common to all very young things who feel
deeply。 It is not till twenty that we learn to be in deadly earnest and to
laugh。 The stranger nodded； while the fellow sought for something more to
relate。 He would tell all to this man of hisall that he knew； all that
he had felt； his inmost sorest thought。 Suddenly the stranger turned upon
him。
〃Boy；〃 he said； 〃you are happy to be here。〃
Waldo looked at him。 Was his delightful one ridiculing him？ Here； with
this brown earth and these low hills； while the rare wonderful world lay
all beyond。 Fortunate to be here？
The stranger read his glance。
〃Yes；〃 he said； 〃here with the karoo…bushes and red sand。 Do you wonder
what I mean？ To all who have been born in the old faith there comes a time
of danger； when the old slips from us； and we have not yet planted our feet
on the new。 We hear the voice from Sinai thundering no more； and the still
small voice of reason is not yet heard。 We have proved the religion our
mothers fed us on to be a delusion； in our bewilderment we see no rule by
which to guide our steps day by day； and yet every day we must step
somewhere。〃
The stranger leaned forward and spoke more quickly。 〃We have never once
been taught by word or act to distinguish between religion and the moral
laws on which it has artfully fastened itself； and from which it has sucked
its vitality。 When we have dragged down the weeds and creepers that
covered the solid wall and have found them to be rotten wood； we imagine
the wall itself to be rotten wood too。 We find it is solid and standing
only when we fall headlong against it。 We have been taught that all right
and wrong originate in the will of an irresponsible being。 It is some time
before we see how the inexorable 'Thou shalt and shalt not；' are carved
into the nature of things。 This is the time of danger。〃
His dark； misty eyes looked into the boy's。
〃In the end experience will inevitably teach us that the laws for a wise
and noble life have a foundation infinitely deeper than the fiat of any
being； God or man； even in the groundwork of human nature。
〃She will teach us that whoso sheddeth man's blood； though by man his blood
be not shed； though no man avenge and no hell await； yet every drop shall
blister on his soul and eat in the name of the dead。 She will teach that
whoso takes a love not lawfully his own； gathers a flower with a poison on
its petals； that whoso revenges； strikes with a sword that has two edges
one for his adversary； one for himself； that who lives to himself is dead；
though the ground is not yet on him； that who wrongs another clouds his own
sun； and that who sins in secret stands accursed and condemned before the
one Judge who deals eternal justicehis own all…knowing self。
〃Experience will teach us this； and reason will show us why it must be so；
but at first the world swings before our eyes； and no voice cries out；
'This is the way； walk ye in it！' You are happy to be here； boy！ When the
suspense fills you with pain you build stone walls and dig earth for
relief。 Others have stood where you stand today； and have felt as you
feel； and another relief has been offered them； and they have taken it。
〃When the day has come when they have seen the path in which they might
walk； they have not the strength to follow it。 Habits have fastened on
them from which nothing but death can free them； which cling closer than
his sacerdotal sanctimony to a priest； which feed on the intellect like a
worm； sapping energy； hope； creative power； all that makes a man higher
than a beastleaving only the power to yearn； to regret； and to sink lower
in the abyss。
〃Boy；〃 he said； and the listener was not more unsmiling now than the
speaker； 〃you are happy to be here！ Stay where you are。 If you ever pray；
let it be only the one old prayer'Lead us not into temptation。' Live on
here quietly。 The time may yet come when you will be that which other men
have hoped to be and never will be now。〃
The stranger rose； shook the dust from his sleeve； and ashamed at his own
earnestness； looked across the bushes for his horse。
〃We should have been on our way already；〃 he said。 〃We shall have a long
ride in the dark tonight。〃
Waldo hastened to fetch the animal； but he returned leading it slowly。 The
sooner it came the sooner would its rider be gone。
The stranger was opening his saddlebag； in which were a bright French novel
and an old brown volume。 He took the last and held it out to the boy。
〃It may be of some help to you；〃 he said； carelessly。 〃It was a gospel to
me when I first fell on it。 You must not expect too much； but it may give
you a centre round which