THE TORCH-BEARER
A voice came ringing down the way: "Room! room for the Torch-bearer!
room for the keeper of the gates of To-morrow! room!"
"Ah! yes," I said. "It is he, the great sage, who has lightened the world-shadows this many a year. Who should bear the torch but he?"
I looked, and the sage passed, his arms folded on his breast, his calm eyes bent forward, seeing many things: but no torch was in his hand.
And still the cry came ringing down the world's way: "Room for the Torch-bearer! make way! make way for the keeper of the gates of To-morrow!"
"Ah!" I said. "It will be the mighty leader, then; he who so long has marshalled our hearts, and led us whithersoever he would with a wave of his hand. Hail to him, hail to the Master of Armies!"
But as I looked, the Master passed, and his truncheon hung low by his side, and his eyes looked downward, remembering; and no torch was in his hand.
Yet still, as I marvelled, came that great cry ringing down the world's way, and now it sounded loud in my ears.
"Room! room! make way, give place! the Torch-bearer comes. Make way for the keeper of the gates of God!"
And once more I looked.
Ah! bare and dusty were her feet, the little woman; and she went bowed, and stumbled on the rough stones, for the great torch hung heavy in her hand, and heavy the babe on her arm: but he sat there as on a throne, and laughed and leaped as he sat, and clutched the living torch and shook it, flinging the blaze abroad, and the world-way lightened before him.
THE STONE BLOCKS
"Why is your little sister crying, dear?" asked the Play Angel. "I thought you were taking care of her."
"So I am, taking beautiful care of her," said the child. "But the more beautiful care I take, the more she cries. She does not like care to be taken of her."
"Let me see!" said the Play Angel; and she sat down on the nursery floor. "Now show me what you have done."
"Look!" said the child. "First I showed her all my dolls, and then all my new dresses; and now I have given her my new stone blocks to play with, but she will not play, only puts them in her mouth and cries."
"Perhaps she is hungry!" said the Play Angel. She took a piece of bread from the folds of her robe and gave it to the baby; and the baby stopped crying, and ate the bread, and laughed and crowed.
"See!" said the Angel. "Now she is happy. Remember, dear, that when babies are hungry, stone blocks do them no good."
"You are a very clever angel to know that!" said the child.
"You are a rather foolish child," said the Angel, "or you would have found it out for yourself."
THE POTTER
A potter wrought at his wheel, singing as he wrought, turning out crocks and pipkins of red clay. They were clumsy of shape and rude in the making, yet they served to hold meal and milk, and the poor folk bought of him. But ever, as he shaped the clay, the potter said to himself: "Some day, some day, I will make a cup of gold for the Prince's drinking!"
Now and again, when he was well paid for his pots, he would get a bit of gold and put it by. This small hoard was precious to him as sunlight, and bit by bit, little coin by little coin, it grew, till one day he had enough. Then he left his clay, and with care and loving pains, his lathe turning to the beat of his heart, he fashioned a little cup of gold.
"It is small," he said, "but it will hold wine for a single draught."
And he set it in the sun among his pots, where it could be seen of the passers-by.
Presently rode by the Prince and his court, and saw the pots, and on one the sun shining.
"Look!" said one of the courtiers, "if the potter have not gilded one of his clay pipkins!"
THE NEIGHBOUR
"What can you tell me of your neighbour?" asked the Angel-who-looks-into-things.
"Oh, an excellent person!" said the Busy Man. "Full of wisdom and virtue; merry, too, withal; in short, a delightful companion."
"You have been much together, then?" said the Angel-who-looks-into-things.
"Well, scarcely that," replied the Busy Man; "in fact, I have been so excessively busy that I have seen nothing of him for a long time. But now I have every intention of doing so; indeed, I think I will ask him to dine with me to-night."
"You can hardly do that!" said the Angel.
"Why not?"
"Because he died this morning."
THE WOUND
Once an Angel found a child crying bitterly, and stopped to comfort him.
"What is the matter, dear?" asked the Angel.
"Oh, I have hurt myself dreadfully!" said the child. "Dreadfully! see!"
and he showed his wound.
"Yes, that must have hurt very much, I know," said the Angel; "but cheer up! I knew another child who was wounded in the same place, and he got over it in good time."
"Ah! but it was not so bad a wound as mine!" said the child.