Remembering the tune, however, he did not wait for Death to speak, but straightway began to play, and Death, his bones rattling, started dancing in the moonlight. The guests, missing their host and hearing the music, crowded to the window, but all they could see was the Fiddler jigging madly away. ‘He wants us to dance outside in the moonlight,’ cried one, and out they all went, and danced merrily with Death, who was becoming a little weary, in the middle. ‘I hate parties--except in time of plague or war’, panted Death to the Fiddler, and he danced away out of sight, and the Fiddler never saw him again for many, many years. THE COLLEGE OF IMMORTAL FAME Marus, a young poet of Levion, was walking in the by-ways of that city, one day, when he came to a great door which he had never seen before, and above the door was written in letters of gold: ‘THE COLLEGE OF IMMORTAL FAME’ So Marus knocked loudly at the door, and when it was opened, said to the Porter: ‘I desire to enter the College.’ ‘Do you desire it more than anything else in the whole world?’ asked the Porter, in a solemn voice. ‘I do,’ said Marus, whose curiosity was awakened. He entered, and was surprised to find that the door was immediately locked and bolted behind him, and that two sentinels with drawn swords took their places in front of it. He found himself in a great hall, and nothing could be heard but sighing and groaning from every side. An old man with a long white beard came towards Marus, and laying his hand on the poet’s shoulder, said: ‘You will stay in this College for the remainder of your lifetime. Little food, less sleep, no rest, occasional moments of ecstasy in years of despair!’ ‘I have made a mistake,’ muttered Marus, and louder: ‘I cannot stay here.’ ‘You cannot escape now,’ said the old man, quite gently. The young poet looked about him and spied a little door at the far end of the hall. ‘Yes, I can!’ he cried, and ran towards the little door, hoping to find it unlocked. It was; and, his heart flooded with relief, he swung open the door and looked out. But which ever way he looked there was nothing to be seen but vast space let with innumerable stars. THE LONELY SOUL Journeying, in a dream, through the Portals of the Dead, I encountered an Angel, who promised to be my guide in the Strange Lands. We saw innumerable cities, gardens, palaces, castles, all beautiful, but in a thousand and one different ways. And moving here, there and everywhere, were happy souls clad in multi-coloured, shimmering garments. ‘It makes my heart rejoice,’ I said to the Angel, ‘to see all these happy souls. But tell me, what brain devised, what hand built, these bewildering beautiful places?’