On the day of his death and whilst erecting his funeral pile Calanus talked cheerfully with the Macedonians and urged them to drink deep and enjoy the passing hours. He commended himself to Alexander, whom, he said, he doubted not but that he should soon see again at Babylon. Then when the pyre was finished, he set it on fire, sprinkled himself, and cutting off some of his hair, threw it into the flame as a first-offering of the sacrifice: he then mounted the pyre, lay down calmly and covered his head in his robe. He moved not as the crackling flames drew near, nor might any one note the least tremor of fear in his limbs as the fire fed on them, nor did any sigh or moan escape from his lips: tho’ what contortions of agony may have twisted themselves on his face could not be known for his head and shoulders were hid in his robe. Alexander stood by and watched the scene. At first he thought to interpose, but learning that such was the custom of the country, and that the seer, by this sacrificial death, drew to himself high honor and special veneration from the people, he forbore. Alexander’s brow was clouded as he watched the full-fed flames: in his mind re-echoed the threefold question of the Indian seer: _Whence are we come; whereby do we live; whither do we go?_ Ah, whither! in his heart ten thousand recriminative contradictory questionings seethed voiceless, answerless. Alexander turned dejectedly away and retired within his tent. That night violent reaction from the depression of the day seized upon Alexander. He ordered that all his army should rest and feast. _Carpe diem_ was the dominating animus of the ensuing debauch. In a delirium of drunken joy Alexander proposed a drinking bout offering a crown to the victor. Promachus drank twelve quarts of wine and to him was awarded the prize. But Promachus did not live long to enjoy his reward, three days after he died from the effects of the debauch as did forty others who had taken part in the drinking bout at the great court feast. There is undoubtedly a strong tendency in human nature to rush from one extreme to the other. The best by corruption become the worst; no one can fall so low as he who has been highest. But from the lowest which has known the highest there rush at times instantaneous recoil, re-ascent, re-attainment--momentary tho’ it be--to the highest. Then when genius gilds that lowest, that recoil, re-ascent, re-attainment--the thoughtless world is thrilled, it listens anew, it understands. Some of the chastest lyrics of the language have been written in recoil from, in liberation and glad bird freedom from the slough of sensuality. The significant charm of Francis Thompson’s _Hound of Heaven_ lies in what it connotes rather than in what it tells. Soul-struggle is enmeshed in the lines, and defeat is heard in alto moan with every note of victory. It is the violent rebound to the height gilded, perhaps goldened, by genius. ALEXANDER’S FEAST.