“In an outburst of gratitude he seized the hand of my friend and kissed it again and again. I had meant to take notes of his behaviour as we went along, but I took none. I knew that afterward I could reproduce from memory all that transpired. “Presently he was calmer, and the surgeon said to him: “'My son, there is something yet to be seen--something that you, having so many other things to see, have overlooked. Look yonder!' And he pointed to the West, where the sun was just going down. “And, at that, the other man faced about and looked full into his first sunset. Instantly his whole mood changed. It became rapt, reverential--you might say worshipful. His lips moved, but no words came from them at first, and he made as though to shut out the sight with his hands, as though the beauty of the vision was too great for him to endure. I went to him and put my hand on his shoulder. He was quivering from head to foot in an ague of sheer happiness. He seemed hardly to know I was there. He did not look toward me. He kept his eyes fixed upon the West as if he were greedy to miss nothing of the spectacle. “Until now the sunset had seemed to me less beautiful by far than many another summer sunset I had seen, for the sky was rather overcast and the colours not particularly vivid; but, standing there beside him, in physical contact with him, I caught from him something of what he felt, and I saw that glow in the west as some-thing of indescribable grandeur and unutterable splendour, a miracle too glorious for words to describe or painters to reproduce upon squares of canvas. “Presently he spoke to me, still without turning his head in my direction. “'How often does this--this--come to pass?' he asked, panting the words out. “'Many times a year,' I told him. 'At this season nearly every evening.' “'And is it ever so beautiful as this?' he said. “'Often more beautiful,' I said. 'Often the colours are richer and deeper.' “'Why are there not more of us here to look upon it?' he asked. 'Surely at this hour all mankind must cease from its tasks--from whatever it is doing--to see this miracle--this free gift of the Creator!' “I tried to tell him that mankind had grown accustomed to the daily repetition of the sunset, but he seemed unable to comprehend. As the last flattened ray of sunshine faded upon the grass, and the afterglow began to spread across the heavens, I thought he was about to faint; and I put both my arms round him to steady him. But he did not faint, though he trembled all over and took his breath into his lungs in great sobbing gulps. I showed him the evening star where it shone in the sky, and he watched it brighten, saying nothing at all. “Suddenly he turned to me and said: “'At last I have lived, and I have found that life is sweet. Life is sweeter than I ever dared to hope it might be.' “Then he said: