losophical truths as the purification and uplifting of
the soul by suffering, and the alchemical transformation of leaden evil
into golden good." (Denis again hung up his little festoon of quotation
marks.) "Then I pop off. Two or three hours later I wake up again, and
find that inspiration has done its work. Thousands of words, comforting,
uplifting words, lie before me. I type them out neatly on my machine and
they are ready for the printer."

"It all sounds wonderfully simple," said Denis.

"It is. All the great and splendid and divine things of life are
wonderfully simple." (Quotation marks again.) "When I have to do my
aphorisms," Mr. Barbecue-Smith continued, "I prelude my trance by
turning over the pages of any Dictionary of Quotations or Shakespeare
Calendar that comes to hand. That sets the key, so to speak; that
ensures that the Universe shall come flowing in, not in a continuous
rush, but in aphorismic drops. You see the idea?"

Denis nodded. Mr. Barbecue-Smith put his hand in his pocket and pulled
out a notebook. "I did a few in the train to-day," he said, turning over
the pages. "Just dropped off into a trance in the corner of my carriage.
I find the train very conducive to good work. Here they are." He cleared
his throat and read:

"The Mountain Road may be steep, but the air is pure up there, and it is
from the Summit that one gets the view."

"The Things that Really Matter happen in the Heart."

It was curious, Denis reflected, the way the Infinite sometimes repeated
itself.

"Seeing is Believing. Yes, but Believing is also Seeing. If I believe in
God, I see God, even in the things that seem to be evil."

Mr. Barbecue-Smith looked up from his notebook. "That last one," he
said, "is particularly subtle and beautiful, don't you think? Without
Inspiration I could never have hit on that." He re-read the apophthegm
with a slower and more solemn utterance. "Straight from the Infinite,"
he commented reflectively, then addressed himself to the next aphorism.

"The flame of a candle gives Light, but it also Burns."

Puzzled wrinkles appeared on Mr. Barbecue-Smith's forehead. "I don't
exactly know what that means," he said. "It's very gnomic. One could
apply it, of course to the Higher Education--illuminating, but provoking
the Lower Classes to discontent and revolution. Yes, I suppose
that's what it is. But it's gnomic, it's gnomic." He rubbed his
chin thoughtfully. The gong sounded again, clamorously,