Cruelty, cruelty, cruelty--all is cruelty! Boys are beaten; oxen
are stabbed till the blood bursts forth; happy, industrious,
dung-collecting beetles are bitten in two by careless, happy,
beetle-collecting dogs--everything is wicked and cruel. The Kaffir
has beautiful legs, but he will kick his wife, and TANT' SANNIE,
alas! will not be there to drop a pickle-tub on his head. And over
everything hangs that inscrutable charm which hovers for ever for the
human intellect over the incomprehensible and shadowy. _Omne ignotum
pro mirifico_, I might say, but I prefer the longer phrase.
And I stood at the gate of Heaven, I and TANT' SANNIE; and we spoke
to everybody quite affably; and they all had time to listen to what we
said, and to make suitable replies.
And I said, "Are we all here?"
And she said, "Not all."
And I said, "The absent are always in the wrong."
And she said, "I have heard that in French."
And I said, "Is not that impertinent?"
And she said, "No."
And a great Light fell across her face, as though a palm had smitten
it, and the name of the palm was Hand, and its fruits were fingers
five.
And again I addressed myself in terms of familiarity to the
Ever-lasting, and I planted a book upon the clouds, where eight
children lay prone with bees flying about their childish bonnets.
And there came a knock at my door.
"Eight o'clock!" said One. "Arise!"
"Nay," I answered; "it cannot be."
"But the water is hot within the can, and the table will be spread for
them that break their fast."
"So be it. I rise." And behold it was a dream!