t
we do not realise that the little life is but one in a great chain of
lives, that each spirit lives many times, over and over. There is no
such thing as waste or sacrifice of life. The life is meant to do just
what it does, no more and no less; bound in the body, it all seems so
long or so short, so complete or so incomplete; but now and here we can
see that the whole thing is so endless, so immense, that we think no
more of entering life, say, for a few days, or entering it for ninety
years, than we should think of counting one or ninety water-drops in the
river that pours in a cataract over the lip of the rocks. Where we do
lose, in life, is in not taking the particular experience, be it small
or great, to heart. We try to forget things, to put them out of our
minds, to banish them. Of course it is very hard to do otherwise, in a
body so finite, tossed and whirled in a stream so infinite; and thus we
are happiest if we can live very simply and quietly, not straining to
multiply our uneasy activities, but just getting the most and the best
out of the elements of life as they come to us. As we get older in
spirit, we do that naturally; the things that men call ambitions and
schemes are the signs of immaturity; and when we grow older, those slip
off us and concern us no more; while the real vitality of feeling and
emotion runs ever more clear and strong."

"But," I said, "can one revive the old lives at will? Can one look back
into the long range of previous lives? Is that permitted?"

"Yes, of course it is permitted," said Amroth, smiling; "there are no
rules here; but one does not care to do it overmuch. One is just glad it
is all done, and that one has learnt the lesson. Look back if you
like--there are all the lives behind you."

I had a curious sensation--I saw myself suddenly a stalwart savage,
strangely attired for war, near a hut in a forest clearing. I was going
away somewhere; there were other huts at hand; there was a fire, in the
side of a mound, where some women seemed to be cooking something and
wrangling over it; the smoke went up into the still air. A child came
out of the hut, and ran to me. I bent down and kissed it, and it clung
to me. I was sorry, in a dim way, to be going out--for I saw other
figures armed too, standing about the clearing. There was to be fighting
that day, and though I wished to fight, I thought I might not return.
But the mind of myself, as I discerned it, was full of hurtful,