In that domain and interval of dream 'Twas dawn upon the headlands of the world, And I, appalled, beheld how men had reared A mountain, dark below the morning star-- A peak made up of houses and of herds, Of cradles, yokes and all the handiwork Of man. Upon its crest were gems and gold, Rare fabrics, and the woof of humble looms. Harvests and groves and battlements were made Part of its ramparts, and the whole was drenched With oil and wine and honey. Then thereon Men bound their sons, the fair, alert and strong, Sparing no household. And when all were bound, Brands were brought forth: the mount became a pyre. Black from that red immensity of flame, A tower of smoke, upcoiling to the sky, Was shapen by the winds, and took the form Of him who in the stithy gave command. A shadow between day and men he stood; His eyes looked forth on nothingness; his wings Domed desolations, and the scarlet sun Glowed through their darkness like a seal that God Might set on Hell forever. Then the pyre Shrank, and he reeled. Whereat, to save that shape Their madness had evoked in death and pain, Men rose and made a second sacrifice. Sartor Resartus BY THOMAS CARLYLE (See pages 31, 74, 133, 488) What, speaking in quite unofficial language, is the net-purport and upshot of war? To my own knowledge, for example, there dwell and toil, in the British village of Dumdrudge, usually some five hundred souls. From these, by certain "Natural Enemies" of the French, there are successfully selected, during the French war, say thirty able-bodied men: Dumdrudge, at her own expense, has suckled and nursed them: she has, not without difficulty and sorrow, fed them up to manhood, and even trained them to crafts, so that one can weave, another build, another hammer, and the weakest can stand under thirty stone avoirdupois. Nevertheless, amid much weeping and swearing, they are selected; all dressed in red, and shipped away, at the public charges, some two thousand miles, or say only to the south of Spain; and fed there till wanted. And now to that same spot, in the south of Spain, are thirty similar French artisans, from a French Dumdrudge, in like manner wending; till at length, after infinite effort, the two parties come into actual juxtaposition, and Thirty stands fronting Thirty, each with a gun in his hand. Straightway the word "Fire!" is given and they blow the souls out of one another, and in place of sixty brisk useful craftsmen, the world has sixty dead carcasses, which it must bury, and anew shed tears for. Had these men any quarrel? Busy as the Devil is, not the smallest! They lived far enough apart; were the entirest strangers; nay, in so wide a Universe, there was even, unconsciously, by Commerce, some mutual helpfulness between them. How then? Simpleton! their Governors had fallen out; and, instead of shooting one another, had the cunning to make these poor