o save somebody else whom they were so foolish as to care for
more than they did for themselves, have been not those "upon whom the
light has shined" to quote an earnest paper I chanced to read this
morning, but, to quote again, "the sinful heathen wandering in their
native blackness," by which I understand the writer to refer to their
moral state and not to their sable skins wherein for the most part they
are also condemned to wander, that is if they happen to have been born
south of a certain degree of latitude.

To come to facts, the staff of Faith which each must shape for himself,
is often hewn from unsuitable kinds of wood, yes, even by the very best
among us. Willow, for instance, is pretty and easy to cut, but try to
support yourself with it on the edge of a precipice and see where you
are. Then of a truth you will long for ironbark, or even homely oak. I
might carry my parable further, some allusions to the proper material
of which to fashion the helmet of Salvation suggest themselves to me for
example, but I won't.

The truth is that we fear to die because all the religions are full of
uncomfortable hints as to what may happen to us afterwards as a reward
for our deviations from their laws and we half believe in something,
whereas often the savage, not being troubled with religion, fears less,
because he half believes in nothing. For very few inhabitants of this
earth can attain either to complete belief or to its absolute opposite.
They can seldom lay their hands upon their hearts, and say they _know_
that they will live for ever, or sleep for ever; there remains in the
case of most honest men an element of doubt in either hypothesis.

That is what makes this story of mine so interesting, at any rate to
me, since it does seem to suggest that whether or no I have a future,
as personally I hold to be the case and not altogether without evidence,
certainly I have had a past, though, so far as I know, in this world
only; a fact, if it be a fact, from which can be deduced all kinds of
arguments according to the taste of the reasoner.

And now for my experience, which it is only fair to add, may after all
have been no more than a long and connected dream. Yet how was I to
dream of lands, events and people where of I have only the vaguest
knowledge, or none at all, unless indeed, as some say, being a part of
this world, we have hidden away somewhere in ourselves an acquaintance
with everything that has ever happe