the first ages of the world some
record of the purpose and problem that had been set him to solve? In a
word," he cried, fixing his shining eyes upon the face of his perplexed
assistant, "that God's messengers in the far-off ages should have given
to His creatures some full statement of the secret of the world, of the
secret of the soul, of the meaning of life and death--the explanation of
our being here, and to what great end we are destined in the ultimate
fullness of things?"

Dr. Laidlaw sat speechless. These outbursts of mystical enthusiasm he
had witnessed before. With any other man he would not have listened to
a single sentence, but to Professor Ebor, man of knowledge and profound
investigator, he listened with respect, because he regarded this
condition as temporary and pathological, and in some sense a reaction
from the intense strain of the prolonged mental concentration of many
days.

He smiled, with something between sympathy and resignation as he met the
other's rapt gaze.

"But you have said, sir, at other times, that you consider the ultimate
secrets to be screened from all possible--"

"The _ultimate_ secrets, yes," came the unperturbed reply; "but that
there lies buried somewhere an indestructible record of the secret
meaning of life, originally known to men in the days of their pristine
innocence, I am convinced. And, by this strange vision so often
vouchsafed to me, I am equally sure that one day it shall be given to me
to announce to a weary world this glorious and terrific message."

And he continued at great length and in glowing language to describe the
species of vivid dream that had come to him at intervals since earliest
childhood, showing in detail how he discovered these very Tablets of the
Gods, and proclaimed their splendid contents--whose precise nature was
always, however, withheld from him in the vision--to a patient and
suffering humanity.

"The _Scrutator_, sir, well described 'Pilgrim' as the Apostle of
Hope," said the young doctor gently, when he had finished; "and now, if
that reviewer could hear you speak and realize from what strange depths
comes your simple faith--"

The professor held up his hand, and the smile of a little child broke
over his face like sunshine in the morning.

"Half the good my books do would be instantly destroyed," he said sadly;
"they would say that I wrote with my tongue in my cheek. But wait," he
added significantly; "wait till I find these Tab