town, to make it respond to his forced
interpretation of it! In reality, it had repelled him--yes, he was
chilled to the heart by the aloofness of this foreign town, to which
not a single tie yet bound him.

By the light of a fluttering candle, in the dingy hotel bedroom, he sat
and wrote a letter, briefly announcing his safe arrival. About to close
the envelope, he hesitated, and then, unfolding the sheet of paper
again, added a few lines to what he had written. These cost him more
trouble than all the rest.

ONCE MORE, HEARTY THANKS TO YOU BOTH, MY DEAR PARENTS, FOR LETTING ME
HAVE MY OWN WAY. I HOPE YOU WILL NEVER HAVE REASON TO REGRET IT. ONE
THING, AT LEAST, I CAN PROMISE YOU, AND THAT IS, THAT NOT A DAY OF MY
TIME HERE SHALL BE WASTED OR MISSPENT. YOU HAVE NOT, I KNOW, THE SAME
FAITH IN ME THAT I HAVE MYSELF, AND THIS HAS OFTEN BEEN A BITTER
THOUGHT TO ME. BUT ONLY HAVE PATIENCE. SOMETHING STRONGER THAN MYSELF
DROVE ME TO IT, AND IF I AM TO SUCCEED ANYWHERE, IT WILL BE HERE. AND I
MEAN TO SUCCEED, IF HUMAN WILL CAN DO IT.

He threw himself on the creaking wooden bed and tried to sleep. But his
brain was active, and the street was noisy; people talked late in the
adjoining room, and trod heavily in the one above. It was long after
midnight before the house was still and he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Towards morning, he had a strange dream, from which he wakened in a
cold sweat. Once more he was wandering through the streets, as he had
done the previous day, apparently in search of something he could not
find. But he did not know himself what he sought. All of a sudden, on
turning a corner, he came upon a crowd of people gathered round some
object in the road, and at once said to himself, this is it, here it
is. He could not, however, see what it actually was, for the people,
who were muttering to themselves in angry tones, strove to keep him
back. At all costs, he felt, he must get nearer to the mysterious
thing, and, in a spirit of bravado, he was pushing through the crowd to
reach it, when a great clamour arose; every one sprang back, and fled
wildly, shrieking: "Moloch, Moloch!" He did not know in the least what
it meant, but the very strangeness of the word added to the horror, and
he, too, fled with the rest; fled blindly, desperately, up streets and
down, watched, it seemed to him, from every window by a cold, malignant
eye, but never daring to turn his head, lest he should see the awful
thing behind hi