HOW JOY WAS FOUND How Joy was Found _A Fantasy_ BY ISOBEL W. HUTCHISON [Illustration] NEW YORK FREDERICK A. STOKES COMPANY PUBLISHERS COPYRIGHT, 1917, BY ISOBEL W. HUTCHISON PREFACE This study in the psychology of Faith is founded on an old Scottish folk-tale told me last year at Onich by Mr. Alexander Cameron, who, a good many years ago, had given it also to the Rev. J. Macdougall of Duror, in whose volume, _Waifs and Strays of Celtic Tradition_, now out of print, it is included. Mr. Macdougall’s version is printed in full at the end of this volume. I have used the story as the framework of an allegory, and have not tried to rival Mr. Macdougall’s narrative, nor have I often kept very close to the text. Most of these beautiful Highland tales are in such intimate touch with nature that they lend themselves very readily to further development, and the story of _How Finn Kept His Children for the Big Young Hero_ seemed to adapt itself wonderfully to my purpose. I. W. H. CARLOWRIE, WEST LOTHIAN, _June, 1917_. _The Characters_ THE BIG YOUNG HERO: One who goes out at the beginning, comes in at the end, and appears unexpectedly all through. FINN: Humanity, a long-suffering man. THE CARPENTER: Duty, a scientific man. THE TRACKER: Obedience, a dutiful man. THE GRIPPER: Constancy, a patient man. THE CLIMBER: Faith, a girl who is more than quite all there. THE THIEF: Love, an old woman wearing a chaperon. THE LISTENER: Hope, a boy wearing a smile. THE MARKSMAN: Truth, a straightforward man carrying a bow and arrows. THE GIANT: A mere notion. THE DOG: Fear (never visible). HER PUPPY, BRAN: Joy. Given to Hope for the present. THE BABY: The Rest of Humanity. GONACHRY: The Heart-wounder, a sarcastic man. ANGUS: A good-natured lazy man. TORQUIL } CONAN } Unemotional men. CONDHLA } ACT I THE GREEN ISLE. EVENING _This Earthly Paradise lies across the western main before you come to the sunset. It is seen imperfectly, like a thought not fully realized, and shimmers as if through a rainbow. It is thus described by one who has been there:_ _“Fair is that land to all eternity beneath the snowfall of blossoms. The gleaming walls are bright with many colours, the plains are vocal with joyous cries, mirth and song are at home on the plain, the silver-clouded one. No wailing there for judgment, naught but sweet song to be heard. No pain, no grief, no death, no discord, no sin, no decay, but ever we feast and need none to serve us, ever we love and no strife ensues. Such is the land.”_