es, molten into a single utterance,--a
single impossible tone,--thin through remoteness of time, but
inexpressibly caressing.

IV

Thou most gentle Composite!--thou nameless and exquisite Unreality,
thrilled into semblance of being from out the sum of all lost
sympathies!--thou Ghost of all dear vanished things ... with thy vain
appeal of eyes that looked for my coming,--and vague faint pleading of
voices against oblivion,--and thin electric touch of buried hands, ...
must thou pass away forever with my passing,--even as the Shadow that I
cast, O thou Shadowing of Souls?...

I am not sure.... For there comes to me this dream,--that if aught in
human life hold power to pass--like a swerved sunray through
interstellar spaces,--into the infinite mystery ... to send one sweet
strong vibration through immemorial Time ... might not some luminous
future be peopled with such as thou?... And in so far as that which
makes for us the subtlest charm of being can lend one choral note to
the Symphony of the Unknowable Purpose,--in so much might there not
endure also to greet thee, another Composite One,--embodying indeed,
the comeliness of many lives, yet keeping likewise some visible memory
of all that may have been gracious in this thy friend...?

VI

THE MAN WHO WENT TOO FAR

E. F. Benson

The little village of St. Faith's nestles in a hollow of wooded hill up
on the north bank of the river Fawn in the county of Hampshire huddling
close round its gray Norman church as if for spiritual protection
against the fays and fairies, the trolls and "little people," who might
be supposed still to linger in the vast empty spaces of the New Forest,
and to come after dusk and do their doubtful businesses. Once outside
the hamlet you may walk in any direction (so long as you avoid the high
road which leads to Brockenhurst) for the length of a summer afternoon
without seeing sign of human habitation, or possibly even catching
sight of another human being. Shaggy wild ponies may stop their feeding
for a moment as you pass, the white scuts of rabbits will vanish into
their burrows, a brown viper perhaps will glide from your path into a
clump of heather, and unseen birds will chuckle in the bushes, but it
may easily happen that for a long day you will see nothing human. But
you will not feel in the least lonely; in summer, at any rate, the
sunlight will be gay with butterflies, and the air thick with all those
woodland sounds wh