Listen! When the lark sings, he sings to you. When the waters sing, they sing to you. And as your heart rejoices, there is always another heart somewhere that responds; and the soul of the listening heavens grows glad with the mother joy. I am glad to be here, I am glad to be there. There is beauty wherever I go. Can you guess the reason, children of earth? Come out and play with me in the daisy fields of space. I will wait for you at the corner where the four winds meet. You will not lose your way, if you follow the gleam at the end of the garden of hope. There is music also beyond the roar of the earth as it swishes through space: There is music in keys unknown to the duller ears of the earth, and harmonies whose chords are souls attuned to each other. Listen.... Do you hear them? Oh, the ears are made for hearing, and the eyes are made for seeing, and the heart is made for loving! The hours go by and leave no mark, and the years are as sylphs that dance on the air and leave no footprints, and the centuries march solemn and slow. But we smile, for joy is also in the solemn tread of the centuries. Joy, joy everywhere. It is for you and for me, and for you as much as for me. Will you meet me out where the four winds meet? LETTER XXXVI THE HOLLOW SPHERE SOME time ago I started to write to you about certain visits which I had made to the infernal regions; but I was called away, and the letter was not finished. To-night I will take up the story again. You must know that there are many hells, and they are mostly of our own making. That is one of those platitudes which are based upon fact. Desiring one day to see the particular kind of hell to which a drunkard would be likely to go, I sought that part of the hollow sphere around the world which corresponds to one of those countries where drunkenness is most common. Souls, when they come out, usually remain in the neighbourhood where they have lived, unless there is some strong reason to the contrary. I had no difficulty in finding a hell full of drunkards. What do you fancy they were doing? Repenting their sins? Not at all. They were hovering around those places on earth where the fumes of alcohol, and the heavier fumes of those who over-indulge in alcohol, made sickening the atmosphere. It is no wonder that sensitive people dislike the neighbourhood of drinking saloons. You would draw back with disgust and refuse to write for me should I tell you all that I saw. One or two instances will suffice. I placed myself in a sympathetic and neutral state, so that I could see into both worlds.