THE TRAVELLER: A DIALOGUE.

DEAMATIS Paasoxis : The TRAVELLER'S Fruzzen and the Teavernrata's • PHYSICIAN.

FRIEND: And so you could not stay my Traveller's steps.? Were they then so impatient for the journey ? Could they not, would they not, wait my coming ? Yet he knew, and you too, that I was upon my way, hasting with utmost speed : well, well, 'twas all in vain.

PHYSICIAN : Yes, indeed, we both knew ; and at the outset his one thought and longing was to abide your coming. Therefore be bade me use all the resources of my art to that one end ; and I obeyed.

FRIEND: To such small effect, alas ! A few short days !—They would have sufficed ; and I should have heard his voice, have pressed his hand, and once again have looked into those brave eyes : we should Nave said farewell. And now . . .

PHYSICIAN: Never before had I thus felt my powerlessness.. Vainly I strove ; each new remedy, the most approved, was tried; each in turn made its appeal : Bible viator I it said, and again, Side victor! Fruitless entreaty ; he would halt, for a moment, the face turned, as it were to the appeal, but the feet, the terrible, eager feet, just marking time, would keep their direction, and that direction, hence ! Stay, he could not. The plain fact could not long be hid from that keen mind ; and once apprehended, then all my endeavours were seen to be—just importunities : these might not withstand the half-reproach with which he looked at me. Dis- comfited, defeat confessed, reluctant, I stayed my hand, and thenceforth constrained myself to play the part of watcher, no more, yet on the alert to stand by should the call come. You will not forget that, in the life of each, there comes a time when "against the violence of Death, no herb that grows availeth." Your Traveller did not forget ; it was on some occasion, I cannot pall to mind exactly what, but it followed upon one other of my therapeutic failures, and he had read my disconsolateness. Motion- ing me to him, he took my hand and by a gentle pressure gave me the comfort of his sympathy and thanks, and as I bent over him to learn his wishes, whispered into my ear the words of the old- world distich :—

" Contra vim mortis non est medicamen in hortis."

As he spoke the words I caught a look of gentle protest, with just a glint of humour, which was strangely touching.

FRIEND: Once more he admonishes me, as in the long-past days, not to be unreasoning or ungenerous—yes, I know full well your goodwill towards us both, and all your skill. So will you forgive, and in token, tell me about him, all you know, for he was my oldest and my chiefest friend ? The circumstances of life, it is true, bad caused us to stand far apart during these later years, but we were one in heart and mind, and bad been from boyhood upwards, and heart and mind can bridge both Time and Space : they did ; we remained one. Now he is gone, and all is changed. . . . But tell me.

PHYSICIAN: It is hard to tell ; the outward show was so slight ; there were few incidents. The fire of life burned steadily, though with a dwindling flame. His days were very peaceful to the end.

FRIEND: Kept he his mind ?

PHYSICIAN: With crystal clearness, unto the last ; ay, and his will and all his sympathies, when these could be reached, for he seemed remote and at times very far off. The remoteness grew as he neared the goal.

FRIEND: Thank God his mind was clear. Had he pain ?

PHYSICIAN : I cannot tell for certain ; pain is of many kinds, and the sense of weakness may be such as to amount almost to pain. If pain there was, it would, I think, be of this kind ; but, as I recall things, I do not think there was much physical suffering. He never complained ; to find out one had to delve ; but then in self-mastery he, surely, was a master, and if pain there was, it did not deflect his spirit's course or trouble its depths. He often smiled.

FRIEND: Did he speak much ?

PHYSICIAN: Not much without, it was an effort to him ; but much within, I am sure. The countenance throughout kept its expressiveness and its light ; there was naught of apathy. The eyes would often be half closed, oftenest perhaps ; but at other times they would be full wide, though set for distance. It was the mobility of feature which held the mirror up and made me aware of the much communing that went on within. }row finely Time had wrought upon those features, about the mouth and eyes especially.

FRIED: But when he spoke ?

PHYSICIAN: 'Twee oftenest of you. This infallibly would =bring him back to earth, and on occasion, even to a mild merriment, always to happiness, though the eyes should grow moist—at times,

FRIEND (much moved): Forgive me—Would that I could have taken him by the hand once more ! You are sure he knew I was

hastening to his side, sparing no effort ? - PHYSICIAN : Yes, yes, with a full knowledge. He would some- times say: "Pythias is coming—I can see him breasting the adverse tires." His grief was for your grief when once he realized the meeting might not be, and it was then he bade me tell you (injunction oft repeated) that you were with him all the while and your presence a constant comfort ; also that he should greet you "over there." The "over there" was such an intense reality for him ; it was so substantial that this heavy spinning world grew light and almost flimsy in comparison—so at least it appeared to me, the onlooker.

FRIEND: Seemed he loth to depart ?

PHYSICIAN: For your sake, yes, but on his own account he was eager to go : be said he had many ties "over there."

FRIEND: Many, many ties ; and now he will be busy relmitting them—he was 'always such a busy m an, whether within or Without.

Do you think that in his eagerness the time dragged heavily ? PHYSICIAN: Gave I that impression ? It was not intended, and I am convinced it was not BO. His was a nature which knew how to wait, for all its eagerness, and the explanation lay in the fact—I am sure you have used the true expression—that he was such a busy man. His demeanour was that of a man intent upon a business of great import.

FRIEND: Business ? Could you guess its nature!

PHYSICIAN: I could ; it was to drink up Life to its very dregs : to live his death. But why miscall the end of life ? Those "dregs" were golden moments to him. He had to end up here ; to round his accounts and present the balance-sheet for Heavenly Audit : then to prepare, so far as his powers would permit, for the long

journey, long foreseen, long planned. His business was to be well accoutred for the way. There were the sandals to tie on ; the cloak, the hat to don ; the bottle to fill full of living water ;

the scrip to provide and furnish ; the pilgrim staff to cut : then would he be ready forth to fare. This was the preparation which I think so filled his mind, that it was hard to turn, even for a while, to thoughts of earth and all that business of the past. Were not his feet upon the threshold, a new light upon his brow, and in his nostrils the breath of a new morning ? But do you know I fancied that perhaps his mind centred upon his scrip, his pilgrim's wallet, and that it must contain something of much moment to him, to account for his earnestness of mien ? You will smile at my fancies, but I must tell you what crossed my mind. I thought

that he looked upon this journey before him as one of trust ; that he had some mission to perform, some message perhaps to deliver— there I have it : he carried himself as might a King's Messenger. FRIEND: A King's Messenger I . . . You have spoken a true word ; you have divined rightly : that will have been his feeling at the last, RS, now that I come to look back, it will have been his conviction all through life—that he was a King's Messenger. His life spoke it ; his death confirmed it. Should we not all be such, might we not be—messengers in the service of a King ? This man never doubted that he was.

PHYSICIAN: He bade me gather up his papers and belongings for you. Amongst them I found these lines, which I could not refrain from reading.

FRIEND: Will you not read them to me ? I beg it of yon.

PHYSICIAN (reeding): ". . . 'Tie night :

In shadow, poised in midmost space, The spinning Earth beneath his feet, Man stands. . .

A blue immensity, peopled With clustered glitt'ring worlds, thick strewn, Confronts his gaze : he contemplates With awe the Splendour and the Room.

Amazed, yet unafraid, he stands, Steadfast in proud humility ; For, lo ! while as he looks, he sees Declaied, in the stupendous whole, The stage, the background for a Soul ; And knows no meaner mansion might His Spirit house."

FRIEND: Speed thee, King's Messenger with winged feet, and Heaven's lamps light thy way : "Nothing is here for tears."

U. S.