No More Learning

THE EATERS OF PRECIOUS STONES


SOMETIMES when I have been shut off from common interests, and have
for a little forgotten to be restless, I get waking dreams, now faint
and shadow-like, now vivid and solid-looking, like the material world
under my feet. Whether they be faint or vivid, they are ever beyond
the power of my will to alter in any way. They have their own will,
and sweep hither and thither, and change according to its commands.
One day I saw faintly an immense pit of blackness, round which went
a circular parapet, and on this parapet sat innumerable apes eating
precious stones out of the palms of their hands. The stones glittered
green and crimson, and the apes devoured them with an insatiable
hunger. I knew that I saw the Celtic Hell, and my own Hell, the Hell
of the artist, and that all who sought after beautiful and wonderful
things with too avid a thirst, lost peace and form and became shapeless
and common. I have seen into other people's hells also, and saw in
one an infernal Peter, who had a black face and white lips, and who
weighed on a curious double scales not only the evil deeds committed,
but the good deeds left undone, of certain invisible shades. I could
see the scales go up and down, but I could not see the shades who were,
I knew, crowding about him. I saw, on another occasion a quantity of
demons of all kinds of shapes--fish-like, serpent-like, ape-like, and
dog-like--sitting about a black pit such as that in my own Hell, and
looking at a moon-like reflection of the Heavens which shone up from
the depths of the pit.




OUR LADY OF THE HILLS


WHEN we were children we did not say at such a distance from the
post-office, or so far from the butcher's or the grocer's, but measured
things by the covered well in the wood, or by the burrow of the fox in
the hill. We belonged then to God and to His works, and to things come
down from the ancient days. We would not have been greatly surprised
had we met the shining feet of an angel among the white mushrooms upon
the mountains, for we knew in those days immense despair, unfathomed
love--every eternal mood,--but now the draw-net is about our feet. A few
miles eastward of Lough Gill, a young Protestant girl, who was both
pretty herself and prettily dressed in blue and white, wandered up
among those mountain mushrooms, and I have a letter of hers telling how
she met a troop of children, and became a portion of their dream. When
they first saw her they threw themselves face down in a bed of rushes,
as if in a great fear; but after a little other children came about
them, and they got up and followed her almost bravely. She noticed
their fear, and presently stood still and held out her arms.
A little
girl threw herself into them with the cry, 'Ah, you are the Virgin out
o' the picture! ' 'No,' said another, coming near also, 'she is a sky
faery, for she has the colour of the sky. ' 'No,' said a third, 'she is
the faery out of the foxglove grown big. ' The other children, however,
would have it that she was indeed the Virgin, for she wore the Virgin's
colours. Her good Protestant heart was greatly troubled, and she got
the children to sit down about her, and tried to explain who she was,
but they would have none of her explanation. Finding explanation of
no avail, she asked had they ever heard of Christ? 'Yes,' said one;
'but we do not like Him, for He would kill us if it were not for the
Virgin. ' 'Tell Him to be good to me,' whispered another into her ear.
'He would not let me near Him, for dad says I am a divil,' burst out a
third.

She talked to them a long time about Christ and the apostles, but was
finally interrupted by an elderly woman with a stick, who, taking her
to be some adventurous hunter for converts, drove the children away,
despite their explanation that here was the great Queen of Heaven come
to walk upon the mountain and be kind to them. When the children had
gone she went on her way, and had walked about half-a-mile, when the
child who was called 'a divil' jumped down from the high ditch by the
lane, and said she would believe her 'an ordinary lady' if she had 'two
skirts,' for 'ladies always had two skirts. ' The 'two skirts' were
shown, and the child went away crestfallen, but a few minutes later
jumped down again from the ditch, and cried angrily, 'Dad's a divil,
mum's a divil, and I'm a divil, and you are only an ordinary lady,'
and having flung a handful of mud and pebbles ran away sobbing. When
my pretty Protestant had come to her own home she found that she had
dropped the tassels of her parasol. A year later she was by chance upon
the mountain, but wearing now a plain black dress, and met the child
who had first called her the Virgin out o' the picture, and saw the
tassels hanging about the child's neck, and said, 'I am the lady you
met last year, who told you about Christ. ' 'No, you are not! no, you
are not!