Love and Life WILL not see it, WILL not know it--till
one day they start up suddenly, crying, 'O God! O God! we have lost it!
Where is it?' They do not understand that they could not carry the
laughing thing unchanged into the desert, and the frost, and the snow.
They do not know that what walks beside them still is the Joy grown older.
The grave, sweet, tender thing--warm in the coldest snows, brave in the
dreariest deserts--its name is Sympathy; it is the Perfect Love."
South Africa.
II. THE HUNTER.
In certain valleys there was a hunter. Day by day he went to hunt for
wild-fowl in the woods; and it chanced that once he stood on the shores of
a large lake. While he stood waiting in the rushes for the coming of the
birds, a great shadow fell on him, and in the water he saw a reflection.
He looked up to the sky; but the thing was gone. Then a burning desire
came over him to see once again that reflection in the water, and all day
he watched and waited; but night came and it had not returned. Then he
went home with his empty bag, moody and silent. His comrades came
questioning about him to know the reason, but he answered them nothing; he
sat alone and brooded. Then his friend came to him, and to him he spoke.
"I have seen today," he said, "that which I never saw before--a vast white
bird, with silver wings outstretched, sailing in the everlasting blue. And
now it is as though a great fire burnt within my breast.
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