step on the road to Death, which was the final goal with its vista of eternal joy or pain or oblivion. Naturally, the pious writer of this ingenious allegory had sought therefrom to point a lesson of the vanity of all worldly pleasures and success, and of the consequent need of preparation for the after-life, which alone matters; but I had always loved the simple conceit for its own sake without troubling myself much about the inevitable moral. And as I continued to gaze upward at the scintillating orb slowly rising over the topmost branches, I could not refrain from a comparison between my own conditions in Meleager and those of the mysterious stranger in the Oriental city of his adoption. It seemed a notable coincidence, and I vaguely wondered whether the author had really possessed a true inkling of the possibility of such an exchange of planets as had been suggested in the tale. D'Aragno's harsh whisper recalled me from my reverie, and from the contemplation of my former sphere to that of tangible objects in my present abode. He bade me follow him across the open starlit glade, all gleaming with heavy dewdrops, and so led the way up-hill to a point whence there was a wide open view bounded by the sea. Far away below us against the misty horizon I could discern two specks of pale yellow light, and I scarcely needed my companion's information to make me realise that these were the twin lanterns of the lighthouses guarding the entrance of the harbour of Tamarida. We were standing also on a fairly wide pathway, apparently a bullock track, and I saw that d'Aragno had led me to one of the chief inland routes of traffic, which I had merely to follow down-hill in order to descend directly into Tamarida. He bade me farewell with some slight show of approval, even stooping so far as to imprint a perfunctory kiss on my hand, the while he pointed out the guiding beacons beneath me. He now bade me farewell and a safe arrival before turning from me with rapid steps. I watched his dwindling white-robed figure cross the exposed glade and then disappear, a tiny luminous speck, into the enclosing forest, and that was my last glimpse of d'Aragno.