THE strain on my attention had been extreme as I tried to follow his explanations. It was not merely the words that were unfamiliar, but the very manner of the thoughts. I had not felt how exhausted my tissues were growing, or how soothing was the influence of the perfumes and soft music. I had been deeply moved by the joy of my acceptance by this strange community and by the profound truths woven into the fabric of its civilisation. Imperceptibly the mist of dreams stole over me. I was not even conscious of the gesture of his hand. I thought that I had fallen back again into the darkness of Western civilisation, and yet that my Limanoran guardian was silently hovering round me, protecting me amid the horrors of the reality. I seemed to be present at a court scene, where the monarch and his ablest statesmen and soldiers were welcoming a hero back from a victorious campaign that had added a great province to the kingdom. There were shoutings and huzzas without, whilst within strains of triumphant music alternated with bowings and ceremonies from the gorgeously robed officials. In some strange way I thought that it was I who was being lauded. Conscious of the tens of thousands left dead upon my battle-fields, I loathed it all; for by some soul-magic, perchance my Limanoran influence, the hearts of eulogists and courtiers were laid bare before my eyes, all (there was not an exception) black with envy and designings; the king himself was sick of me and my honours, even as he showered them on me. I knew the pitfalls and intrigues prepared for me; I saw the whole mass of humanity, both lacquered and tattered, that was now cheering, hiss and groan at me as I fell; and I turned away from the applauding crowd and looked into the homes of my dead soldiers, and I heard the weeping and despair of the widow with her orphans and the mother bereft of her children in their prime. Here the depths of sorrow were its surface too. What was there to my credit in the book of time? Then with sudden transformation I saw the crowd swaying like billows before the wind; every inch of space on the floor of the vast cathedral was filled with an adoring multitude, tears falling from the eyes of every up-turned face. What could not be done with a mass of humanity so filled with passion for the highest! None too large were the vaulted aisles and nave for the tremulous thunder of the anthem. It seemed as if the dome of the sanctuary would open and the Deity would reveal Himself to His rapt suppliants. Then the music died away and silence magnetised the people and drew down the influence of heaven upon them. And it was I that was in the pulpit, seeming a feeble and sinful thing beside this divinely inspired multitude. Could I do aught but still their quivering hearts?