"If one yet older be true," said the Will, speaking to the Soul, "you and Shadow are one and the same. Nay, the mystery of the Trinity is symbolised here again--as in us three; for there is an ancient forgotten word of an ancient forgotten people, which means alike the Breath, the Shadow, and the Soul."[1] As we walked onward we became more silent. It was about the sixth hour from noon that we saw a little coast-town lying amid green pastures, overhung, as it seemed, by the tremulous blue band of the sea-line. The Body was glad, for here were friends, and he wearied for his kind. The Will and the Soul, too, were pleased, for now they shared the common lot of mortality, and knew weariness as well as hunger and thirst. So we moved towards the blue smoke of the homes. "The home of a wild dove, a branch swaying in the wind, is sweet to it; and the green bracken under a granite rock is home to a tired hind; and so we, who are wayfarers idler than these, which blindly obey the law, may well look to yonder village as our home for to-night." So spoke the Soul. The Body laughed blithely. "Yes," he added, "it is a cheerier home than the green bracken. Tell me, have you ever heard of The Three Companions of Night?" "The Three Companions of Night? I would take them to be Prayer, and Hope, and Peace." "So says the Soul--but what do _you_ say, O Will?" "I would take them to be Dream, and Rest, and Longing." "We are ever different," replied the Body, with a sigh, "for the Three Companions of whom I speak are Laughter, and Wine, and Love." "Perhaps we mean the same thing," muttered the Will, with a smile of bitter irony. We thought much of these words as we passed down a sandy lane hung with honeysuckles, which were full of little birds who made a sweet chittering. Prayer, and Hope, and Peace; Dream, and Rest, and Longing; Laughter, and Wine, and Love: were these analogues of the Heart's Desire? When we left the lane, where we saw a glow-worm emitting a pale fire as he moved through the green dusk in the shadow of the hedge, we came upon a white devious road. A young man stood by a pile of stones. He stopped his labour and looked at us. One of us spoke to him. "Why is it that a man like yourself, young and strong, should be doing this work, which is for broken men?" "Why are you breathing?" he asked abruptly. "We breathe to live," answered the Body, smiling blithely. "Well, I break stones to live." "Is it worth it?" "It's better than death." "Yes," said the Body slowly, "it is better than death." "Tell me," asked the Soul, "why is it better than death?" "Who wants not to want?" "Ah--it is the need to want, then, that is strongest!" The stone-breaker looked sullenly at the speaker. "If you're not anxious to live," he said, "will you give me what money you have? It is a pity good money should be wasted. I know well where I would be spending it this night of the nights," he added abruptly in Gaelic.