{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_33501/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_33501","id":"gutenberg_33501","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/33501","summary":null,"tags":["Category: Novels","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Gods -- Fiction"],"text":"Produced by Louise Davies, Roger Taft, Mary Meehan and the\nOnline Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n                            The Book of Gud\n\n                     By Dan Spain and Harold Hersey\n\nThis etext was produced from Main Street, July 1929. Extensive research\ndid not uncover any evidence that the U.S. copyright on this publication\nwas renewed.\n\n\n     _DIP INTO THIS NOVEL ANYWHERE.... It deals with a god in whom\n     nobody believed, and of his adventures the day after eternity.\n     For instance, try Chapter XVI._\n\n\n\n\nChapter I\n\n\nOne Sunday afternoon I was driving through a sparsely settled region on\nthe southwest slope of the Catskills. It was growing late and I was\nanxious to get back to New York, but I had lost my way. In an attempt to\ncut across to the Hudson River road I turned up a poorly traveled lane,\nwhich, after ten miles of going, petered out into a mere abandoned\ntrail.\n\nI kept on this for perhaps three miles further without passing a house,\nand then came to a low rambling structure half hidden among a grove of\nancient overhanging trees. It was near lamp-lighting time and I was\npuzzled to know whether the place was deserted or not. I turned my car\nin toward the house, bumped over loose rocks--and my engine died.\n\nA man appeared on the porch. He was lanky in build, a little stooped,\napparently about forty years of age, and was dressed in a blue flannel\nshirt and a pair of corduroy trousers.\n\n\"Can you tell me how far it is to New York?\" I asked.\n\n\"Yes.\"\n\n\"How far is it?\"\n\n\"About a hundred miles as the crow flies.\"\n\n\"But how far is it by automobile?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" replied the man, who seemed to be better posted on crow\nflights than auto travel.\n\nHe offered no further remarks, but stood there indifferently eyeing the\ncar.\n\nCurbing my annoyance I inquired: \"How do I get out to a good automobile\nroad?\"\n\n\"The way you came in.\"\n\nRealizing that I could get no information from this uncivil being, I\npushed the starter--not a sound. I got out and cranked the engine--not a\nkick. I looked into my gas tank--not a drop!\n\n\"Where is the nearest gas station?\" I demanded.\n\n\"I don't know--I burn kerosene,\" was the terse reply; and the man turned\nand entered the house.\n\nI tried to recall the last gas station I had passed, and realized it\nmust have been all of fifteen miles behind. It was now growing dark. I\nclimbed into the car to think of a way out of my awkward situation, but\nall I could think of was that there were sound reasons for abandoned\nfarms. Then I got to wondering who this queer character was and why he\nwas living here.\n\nAs I had slept but little the night before, I must have dozed off, for\nthe next thing I knew, a voice was saying: \"Supper is ready.\"\n\nI got out of the car and followed the man through a dark hall into a\nlarge, low room, at one end of which a fire was burning briskly in a\nhuge stone fireplace. In the center of the room was a table where we sat\ndown to a dinner of delicious hot biscuits and a great pot of honey.\n\n\"These biscuits are fine,\" I said.\n\n\"They are.\"\n\nI ate another in silence. \"And the honey is exquisite.\"\n\n\"It is.\"\n\n\"Do you keep bees?\"\n\n\"Yes, millions of them.\"\n\n\"Do you keep any other stock?\" I asked, thinking a glass of milk would\ntaste fine.\n\n\"Yes, a blind cat.\"\n\n\"Do you find the bees profitable?\"\n\n\"No, I keep them for company.\"\n\n\"Why do you live in this lonesome place?\"\n\n\"To avoid automobilists.\"\n\nI ate three more biscuits, drowned in honey, then the silence became\nunbearable. \"Do you do anything else besides keep bees?\"\n\n\"I read.\"\n\n\"That is interesting. What do you read?\"\n\n\"Books.\"\n\n\"Ah!\" I said, \"perhaps you write also.\"\n\n\"I do.\"\n\n\"What do you write?\"\n\n\"Books.\"\n\nWe finished the meal in silence, then my host arose and cleared the\ntable. Meanwhile I wandered about the big room and glanced at the titles\non the bookshelves. I was amazed at the catholicity of his taste. Side\nby side, with Godesius was \"In His Steps\"; leaning against\nSchopenhauer's \"_Die Welt Als Wille Und Vorstellung_,\" was a popular\nnovel of the day.\n\nThus made to realize that my host was a person of some caliber, and\naspiring to pursue his acquaintance upon an intellectual plane, I\nstepped forward, as he came through the door, and extended my hand,\nsaying: \"My name is Harold Hersey.\"\n\n\"What of it?\" he said, and turned to adjust a kerosene lamp. Then he\ncame forward and extended his hand. \"I will not say I am glad to meet\nyou until I find out that I am.\"\n\n\"Your name?\" I inquired.\n\n\"Dan Spain.\"\n\n\"That sounds like a nom de plume,\" I ventured.\n\n\"It is.\"\n\nFeeling that there was nothing further that I could say, I pulled out my\npipe and seated myself before the fire.\n\nDan Spain settled into a chair nearby. \"The fact that your name is\nHarold Hersey means nothing to me,\" he remarked, \"but as I presume that\nyou will spend the night here, I might be able to make it less\ndisagreeable for you if I knew your trade or occupation.\"\n\nI have always been a little sensitive about revealing my profession to\nstrangers, because, unfortunately, some men do not regard it highly; so\nI replied: \"What would you judge me to be from my appearance?\"\n\n\"A cigar salesman.\"\n\nI hastened to controvert him. \"Looks are deceiving,\" I said, \"I am a\nwriter.\"\n\nSo I read him the following. There was a curious silence afterwards:\n\n    _When the limpid highbrows chatter\n    And their candlelights are low;\n    When their purple souls are bitter\n    From discussing thus and so,\n    And the Lucy Stoners twitter\n    In some frowsy studio;_\n\n    _When the fat-legged mantees mutter\n    And you see their eyeballs twitch;\n    When the parlor wobblies hover\n    Around the newly rich,\n    And the men of bread-and-butter\n    Get the \"art-for-art's-sake\" itch...._\n\n    _Then I don't regret the making\n    Of this idle verse of mine,\n    And my pickling by the Poohbahs\n    In their literary brine,\n    Nor the gesture of a Burdash\n    For not hewing to the line._\n\n    _My humor is the laughter\n    From life's tickled ribs. It's rough,\n    For it's written from the raw\n    Where I like to get my stuff,\n    And it ought to rise in letters:\n    Goodness knows it's light enough._\n\n\"It is nothing to be ashamed of,\" said Dan Spain, \"I once worked in a\nslaughter house.\"\n\n\"What books have you had published?\" I asked after a time.\n\n\"None.\"\n\nHaving had a number of books published myself, I felt that I might be\nof some service to this hermit scholar who had evidently not adjusted\nhimself to the practical exigencies of the publishing business. \"It is\njust possible,\" I suggested, \"that my experiences and acquaintances\nmight enable me to help you get some of your work in print--that is, if\nyou would care to tell me what you are writing.\"\n\nDan Spain leaned over and attended the fire. After poking it to his\nsatisfaction, he picked up a live coal and dropped it in the bowl of his\npipe. Finally he spoke, and his words were startling enough. \"Just at\npresent,\" he said, \"I am writing an autobiography of God.\"\n\nThere was a sudden rattle at the shutter.\n\n\"What was that?\" I asked nervously.\n\nDan Spain laughed. \"Wind,\" he replied, \"wind through the trees.\nLightning may strike us dead at any moment because of my blasphemous\nambitions. That is why I live as a hermit--should God's lightning strike\nat me, there will be no complications through it hitting an innocent\nbystander. You are the first person who has spent a night under this\nroof with me. I am sorry to subject you to the danger, but you came\nwithout an invitation.\"\n\n\"But why,\" I asked, \"do you want to write a blasphemous book? You are\naware, I suppose, that it might be suppressed.\"\n\n\"In a country, the constitution of which guarantees freedom of speech\nand religious liberty, I grant the possibility.\"\n\n\"Then why,\" I persisted, \"do you want to write it?\"\n\n\"Because,\" said Spain, \"I am tired of tempering the wind of truth to the\nlamb of stupidity. Must we so fear the anger of the childish mob, that\nwe dare not deprive them of their fairy tales of ghosts and gobblins,\nlest they kick out the props of civilizations? Must we, who no longer\nbend the knees of the mind in spook idolatry nor shake with the ague of\nhell fear, pretend that science and religion have been reconciled and\nmumble incantations to a metaphysical essence instead of saying to a\nmaternal God to open the windows of the sky and spill rain out of\nheaven? I want to write a blasphemous book because the gods who throttle\nhuman intelligence and block human progress have revealed their\nvulnerable spot--for they are the gods who fear laughter.\"\n\n\"But surely?\" I said, \"all that is old stuff--Ingersoll has been dead\ntwenty years. Present day thinkers only smile indulgently when some\nhandsome faced bucolic clergyman invades a metropolitan pulpit and gets\nthe forgotten monkey argument into the headlines of the daily press.\nModern philosophy has reconciled religion and science and shown that\nthey hail from the same psychic origins.\"\n\n\"The dictionary has never been made a sacred book,\" returned Spain, \"and\nI cannot try men for heresy who blaspheme it. If a man wishes to\ndesignate the emotions he experiences when gazing at the stars by the\nterm 'religion' I cannot prevent him. My dictionary defines religion as\n'a belief in binding the spirit of man to a supernatural being' and\nfurther includes the idea of duties and rites founded upon such belief.\nIf that be religion the war between religion and science can never end.\nThe particular battle ground may change from age to age; it may be\nconcerned with the mobility of the sun, the origin of species or the\nimmaculate conception....\"\n\n\"Well what of it,\" I remarked, \"those things are all relatively\nunimportant.\"\n\n\"True\" said Spain, \"they are, but science has a job in the future that\nis vastly important and religion stands in its way.\"\n\n\"And what is that?\" I asked.\n\n\"It is the job of saving civilization from degenerating into a chaos\nbesides which the dark ages, medievalism would seem Bericlean by\ncomparison. As we are headed now we are on the road for a grand smash.\nThe growing complexities of civilization can only be managed by a human\nbreed of superior capacity, and instead of breeding a race of better men\nwe are letting the inborn capacity of the human species regress and\ndegenerate.\n\n\"Natural selection or the survival of the fittest raised us up from\nbrutes, and civilization stops the operation of that law which made it\npossible. Blind charity preserves the rabbitries of stupidity--the\ndifferential birth rate snuffs out the flame of innate intelligence. The\nonly visible salvation is systematic breeding of superior men; and\nagainst human breeding religion stands garbed in all her mummeries,\nshielding behind her wish fancies of immortality, the leering face of\nthe ape man returned to prowl in the ruins of all we have builded.\n\n\"The little priests of religion play in sweet innocence with their hopes\nof heaven having not the least conception of the human drift. But the\nhigh priests of religion know very well on which side their bread is\nbuttered. They know that spook worship thrives only in the soil of\nstupidity. They will fight to the last ditch against any serious effort\nto breed men for brains. Their creeds are smoothly schemed to block\nintelligence in its efforts at biological perpetuation. The fable of a\nghostly paternity of the human species fits their purpose like a glove.\nBy inoculating the new-born human animal with a fantasy called a soul\nthey clothe the act of reproduction with a garb of sanctification and\nendow all sexual and parental functions with rites so skillfully\ningrained into popular thought that men who renounce the more patent\nabsurdities of theology are still soaked in the sacramental conception\nof reactionary morality whenever it touches the reproduction of the\nspecies. So they hope to maintain our present scheme of mongrel breeding\nwhich is fast blotting out the hard won grains of the tedious climb of\nhuman evolution and riding us for a smash of the fabric of civilization,\nbecause the children of the stupid cannot maintain the structure we have\nwrought.\"\n\n\"But surely,\" I said, \"you do not intend to propound such ponderous\nbiological and sociological doctrines in an autobiography of your\ngod--if you do so I am sure it will be very dull. I had hoped you had in\nmind some readable piece of literary composition.\"\n\n\"So I had; I was not telling you what I intended to write. You asked me\nwhy I wanted to write it. The god who mustn't be laughed at could make\nhimself very ridiculous by setting down the story of his life. He should\nnot be a metaphysical concept. I should prefer a nice old man with robe\nand halo and whiskers--I am sure he should have whiskers.\"\n\n\"And just when,\" I asked, \"would you have him born?\"\n\n\"I don't know,\" replied Spain, \"I have stalled on eternity. I find it\nquite an awkward span of life to cover in a manuscript.\"\n\n\"Why not dodge the difficulty,\" I suggested, \"by having your story begin\nthe day after eternity.\"\n\nSpain turned his gaze upon me with a twinkling light in his eyes. \"Young\nman,\" he said, \"No wonder you tried to drive an automobile without\ngasoline--you are suffering from a touch of genius.\n\n\"I shall doubtless need aid,\" confessed Spain, more cordial, I felt,\nthan he had previously seemed.\n\nAs I caught the flame of enthusiasm in this man's conviction, my heart\nwarmed to him. I found myself interested in his proposed \"Autobiography\nof God\"--interested and critical. \"It might amuse you,\" I said, \"to know\nthat somewhere among my own writing notes I have this item jotted down.\n'A tale that should begin the day after eternity.'\"\n\nDan Spain looked at me, his eyes twinkling, \"Not half bad,\" he said.\n\nAnd so began an exchange of suggestions, a mutual laying on the table of\nthe most guarded treasures of one's over-reaching ambitions to write the\nimpossible.\n\nAs the night wore on our wits sharpened each on the other, and before\ndawn broke, Dan Spain and I both realized that we had cast in outline\nform the skeleton of a most ambitious piece of writing. Then we awoke to\nthe fact, that we, who were acquaintances of a single session had joined\nour wits to create something that could not be disentangled without its\ndestruction.\n\n\"And now,\" I said, \"who is going to write this tale of the adventures of\nthe great god Gud?\"\n\n\"We must write it together,\" replied Spain, \"nothing else would be\nhonest.\"\n\nThere followed a period of intermittant work that strung out through\nseveral seasons. We worked sometimes alone; at other times I spent\nweek-ends at Spain's hermitage, and on a few occasions I dragged the\nhermit down to my quarters in Greenwich Village. As the manuscript\ngathered bulk, I arranged for its typing, having always a copy made for\neach of us.\n\nDuring the summer of 1924, I spent most of the month of July at Spain's\nhermitage and we got the book completed, though there were still many\nparts of it on which we had serious differences of opinion. Taking my\ndraft with me, I went back to New York, where I had to attend to some\nneglected editorial duties.\n\nSpain had agreed to come down to my place on the week-end of August\nthirtieth for a final effort to see if we could reconcile our\ndifferences of opinion.\n\nThe intervening weather in the city was oppressive and I did no further\nwork on the manuscript. When August thirtieth arrived Spain did not show\nup. I waited for him another week and then drove my car up to his\nhermitage in the Catskills.\n\nI bumped over the stones of the miserable trail and brought my car to a\nhalt in front of where Spain's house had stood. Before me I saw a\nyawning circle of trees with the inner sides scorched and withered, and\nthe great gaunt stone chimney alone now rearing from a heap of ashes.\n\nThe combustion had been complete. Not a charred stick remained. All was\nwhite ash, and well packed down, for it had rained heavily a few nights\nbefore.\n\nThe evidence of that rain sent my mind hurtling back in review of the\nweather since Spain had left New York. I remembered that one night a few\ndays before Spain was due to return I had found my apartment so\noppressive that I had gone to Brighton Beach. As I lay on the sands, it\nmust have been toward midnight, a squall had driven across the sky and\nthere had been a bit of a blow and a magnificent electrical display, but\nonly a few heavy drops of rain had fallen.\n\nBrighton Beach was over a hundred miles from this spot in the Catskills,\nand the weather in the two locations might have been wholly dissimilar.\nStill it was suggestive of the worst possible fears.\n\nI looked about for something with which I could prod into the debris.\nThe only thing available was a great twisted steel lightning rod that\nreared up through the ashes. The result of my effort was a discovery\nfrom which I recoiled.\n\nFor a moment I found it expedient to step away from the place. In doing\nso, I unconsciously dragged the piece of lightning rod along with me.\nBehind a screen of foliage I sat down weakly. Presently, my eyes\nfollowed along that lightning rod, and I noted that one end was freshly\nbroken where I had bent it until it snapped in two. But the other end\nhad been the tip that pointed skyward above the house. This I now saw\nwas fused and melted in a way that no heat of a burning wood could have\npossibly accomplished.\n\nI need write but little of the duties that followed. Suffice to say,\nthat every paper that might have revealed more than my slight knowledge\nof Spain's origin or connections had been destroyed. The county records\nyielded nothing except the deed to his property purchased the year\nbefore I met him. There was nothing for me to do but turn matters over\nto the local authorities and let the law take its course.\n\nI returned to New York and slept off the weariness the ordeal had\nengendered.\n\nThen I went to my desk and produced my draft of \"The Book of Gud\" and\nturned slowly through it. It was all there, a complete manuscript, but\nincluding many things on which our differences of opinion had not been\nreconciled--and Dan Spain was dead!\n\nGradually the responsibilities of my position dawned upon me. I was\njoint author of \"The Book of Gud.\" However, my \"partner in crime\" was\ndead. We had written much of the prose together although much of it was\nby Spain alone. The verse was mine.\n\nHow helpless I felt with this gigantic task staring me in the face!\n\nSensing keenly the sacred trust of fidelity to the intent of a dead\nauthor, I did not feel at liberty to make the changes in Spain's draft\nthat I felt should be made. Yet, if my name were to be on the jacket of\nthis book, I did not feel that I could possibly let some of the things\nin Spain's draft pass without registering my protest. Conversely I must,\nin all fairness, concede that he had felt the same about some of my\nlines.\n\nMy decision on going over the work the first time was that all I could\ndo was to let the manuscript pass on to the world exactly as it was when\nGod's lightning stilled forever the pen of Dan Spain.\n\nHowever, upon going over the manuscript a second time, I found my\ninstincts as an editor overwhelming this excellent resolution. For\nseveral months I was torn between my conscience as a writer with its\nfull sense of duty to a dead author and my editorial conscience with its\nfuller sense of duty to the reading public--and I did nothing with the\nmanuscript.\n\nBut at last a great compromising thought occurred to me. I could leave\nthe manuscript stand intact, but I could write a preface in which I\ncould explain the dreadful dilemma in which the death of my collaborator\nleft me, and why I do not feel, under the distressing circumstances,\nthat I should be held responsible for those parts of Spain's draft which\ndo not meet my approval. My decision has made possible the publication\nof \"The Book of Gud\"; for otherwise I should have burned my copy also.\n\nIt is my hope that this explanation will mitigate the wrath of many\nreaders, for it is a beautiful fact about human nature that it rarely\nholds the dead as responsible as it does the living.\n\nI frankly confess that it has been a task to hold to this resolution,\nfor I have been sorely tempted to delete as well as comment on some of\nSpain's text. As proof of my integrity in this matter, I have even left\nin the text of the book a note addressed to me by Spain in which he has\nexpressed his contempt for my work in a most ungentlemanly manner.\n\nI hold that the canons of literary ethics do not permit one to alter a\ndead man's manuscript. If they did, how quickly we could enrich the\nliterary heritage of American children by expurgating the classics of\nEurope and rewriting them in a style acceptable to the American sense of\ndecency.\n\nTo some very literally minded persons it may seem that the view just\nexpressed is not consistent with my capacity as a joint author of \"The\nBook of Gud.\" Let me therefore discount any such criticisms by\nexplaining that the evil effects of literature all come from its\nrealism. \"The Book of Gud\" is romantic and symbolic. There is true\nbeauty in symbolism because of the variety of possible interpretations.\nEach reader can gain the meaning particularly adapted to himself.\n\nThe greatest art is that which can be interpreted in the most devious\nways: Witness the character of Hamlet, the enigma of Mona Lisa, the\nriddle of the Book of Revelations. To me Hamlet is the personification\nof a weak will in a strong mind, due to the European habit of inbreeding\nroyalty. Mona Lisa, I believe, reveals the patience of a great woman who\nknows that she will ultimately get what she wants. The Book of\nRevelation I deem to be a symbolic anticipation of the Darwinian theory\nof man's descent from prehistoric animals.\n\nIn \"The Book of Gud\" there is great symbolism, and in symbolism there\ncan be nothing degrading, as each mind interprets it according to its\nown intellectual and moral plane. Hence there can never be degradation\nin symbolic literature, except for degraded minds.\n\nHere then is \"The Book of Gud\"; and, with the exception of this preface,\nI bow to the principle that death should end an author's work and so it\nshould remain, even as Sodom and Gomorrah, Pompeii and Herculaneum\nremained as they were when fire rained down on them from Heaven.\n\n    (Signed),\n\n    HAROLD HERSEY.\n\n    London, England,\n    April First, 1925.\n\n\n\n\nChapter II\n\n\n    From out the distant and neglected past,\n    The \"is\" or \"isn'tness\" of things remain\n    As ever still unsolved. Admitting this,\n    Outscepting every sceptic, we've indulged\n    Our wildest fancies ... where unknowables\n    Go chasing unattainables. We've spared\n    No god, religion, science, sex or art,\n    But laid about us with a heavy fist.\n    There are so many twists of humor\n    In Euclid's cubes and angles. Laughter hides\n    With playfulness behind philosophy\n    Like little monsters in an ancient's beard.\n    So many gods are out of work--they beg\n    For bread and sympathy to empty stalls\n    Where once delighted thousands paid them praise.\n    Religion simmers in the pot, or boils\n    Completely over as the housewives nod.\n    Strange trolls peek out from books of mathematics,\n    Grimace around cold scientific theories.\n    Dwarfs and goblins play at hide and seek\n    In empty attics of the homes of creeds;\n    While sex is swept with laughter like a gale\n    When we disturb the surface with an axe.\n    Have mercy on our hero, Gud the Great.\n    The clouds of history had cloaked his tomb\n    Like old Zumbissus, Mord and Red Torswaine,\n    Until we carefully unearthed the tale\n    Gud's wild adventures furnish to romance.\n    We took his crumbling bones and gave them life--\n    His human frailties and deeds of valor.\n    No doubt heroically he suffers thus\n    At our faint hands--but let the subject be.\n    The future cannot hide its heroes yet\n    To come beneath a cloud of silence ... hands\n    Other than ours--aliens and scornful, too,\n    Would some day come upon this untold tale\n    And lay it bare with scalpels cold and sharp.\n    At least we had regard for laws of prophesy,\n    The customs of a future time. Here stands\n    The Book of Gud upon the rocks of truth.\n    Yet when one goes to Rome, Dame Rumor says,\n    Burn Roman candles--this have we done.\n\n\n\n\nChapter III\n\n\nThere was once a god whose name was Gud.\n\nGud was not a real god such as men believe in. He was only Gud, whom no\none believes in, and so does not exist, and will not unless some man who\nreads this Book of Gud should believe in him and so make him (for that\nis how gods are made). If there be sufficient faith in a god, all is\nwell with that god, since he is made by faith alone, without works, and\nis dead. But a little faith is a dangerous thing.\n\nNow Gud had had a universe, and had ordered it destroyed, and had\nordained that eternity be over and done.\n\nThe morning after, Gud sat alone in space. All things else had been\ndestroyed save Gud and space; and Gud was lonely, for creation had been\ndone and undone and was no more, and eternity was over; and time was no\nmore, for there were no more stars to mark the course of time.\n\nSince this book is being written now, printed now, and read now and\nburned now; and since printing presses and reading eyes and consuming\nfires exist in an age of whirling worlds and beating hearts and ticking\nwatches, which mark time and thus seem to make it, it is that this book\nis not. Those things that seem to happen herein, one after another,\nreally happened instantaneously,--for this is a tale of a timeless time,\nand there will be, when these things are, no time at all, and no hope of\nany time, since this story begins, and is finished the day after\neternity, which is after the ending of all that was and before the\nbeginning of that which will never be.\n\nTherefore, this story is really not a story, because it never could\nhappen until after all things had happened. So what you now are reading\nhas no meaning at all and no existence, real or unreal.\n\nSo Gud sat alone in space. The fact that Gud was sitting is very\nimportant. Gud sat down in haste at the very last moment of eternity, as\nall things were being destroyed; for he saw that the very next moment\nthere would be nothing left on which to stand.\n\nAs Gud sat alone in space, he thought of everything that had been and\nremembered everything that was, and Gud saw that it was not good--for he\nhad nothing at all to do. So Gud thought he would listen to his heart\nbeat; but alas, he could not hear his heart beat for there was no time\nfor his heart to beat to.\n\nSo Gud decided that he would do nothing, but alas he could do nothing\nfor there was nothing to do; and Gud feared nothing, for it did not\nexist, and like all of us, Gud most feared that which does not exist.\n\nSo Gud repented him that he had ordained that eternity be over and done;\nand that he had destroyed the universe and all that was therein\ncontained, save himself and space.\n\nThen Gud said to himself, there being no one else to talk to: \"I must\nfind something to do, or I shall go mad.\"\n\nSince Gud knew all things, and remembered all things, he recalled that\nmen in whose image he was made, also frequently retired prematurely from\nbusiness and were hard put for something to do. Gud remembered also that\ngreat men, even though they were not as great as he, when finding\nthemselves in similar circumstances, sometimes wrote their\nautobiographies.\n\nSo Gud decided to write his autobiography. And Gud wrote it. He wrote it\ninstantaneously, there being no time in which to write it. Gud did not\nwrite it upon tables of stone, as there was no stone out of which to\nmake the tables; and besides there was no gravity and hence the stones\nwould have floated away.\n\nSo Gud wrote his autobiography on nothing. But as Gud knew all things\nhe saw no need of writing them down, since there was no one else to read\nthem, and so he really never wrote his autobiography on anything.\nHowever when he had finished the manuscript, he sent it to a publisher.\n\nAnd waited....\n\nGud received but little satisfaction from writing his autobiography\nbecause it was never published. Had Gud been a true literary artist this\nwould have made no difference, since to the true artist the plaudits and\nducats of the multitude have no meaning whatever. But the ducats of the\nmultitude are the only reason publishers ever publish books, as any\nhonest publisher will tell you. The reason that you do not know this is\nbecause you have not been told, and the reason that you have not been\ntold is because publishers hate publicity.\n\nBut, while Gud was not a true artist, as any critic who has looked at\nhis work could tell you, yet he was a good artisan and had considerable\nexperience in his craft, which was that of creating things. So now,\nreceiving no satisfaction from having written his autobiography, Gud\ndecided that there was nothing else to do but to go back to work at his\nold trade. So he arose and went to get his kit of well-beloved tools,\nwhich were the tools of creation.\n\nAs there was no light Gud was in the dark. So he walked in a circle, as\none always does when he walks in the dark and does not know where he is\ngoing. The reason that Gud did not know where he was going is because he\nstarted out to get his tools of creation.\n\nThen Gud recalled that he had destroyed everything, including the tools.\nAnd at the thought that he had made a perfect job of destruction, Gud\ndecided that it was the end of a perfect day, and he fell asleep.\n\nWhen Gud awoke it was as it was. He did not even feel rested, for he had\nnot slept very well, having had a bad dream. This dream was so bad that\none might have called it a nightmare, had it not been dreamed the day\nafter eternity and perforce must have been a day dream.\n\nGud realized that he ought to have the dream interpreted, for a dream is\nmeaningless until it is interpreted.\n\nSo he decided that he needed a psychoanalyst. All of these having been\ndestroyed, Gud decided to create one. This decision brought him back to\nthe painful realization that he possessed no tools of creation. So Gud\ndecided to make a new set of tools of creation. But alas there was\nnothing out of which to make the tools of creation--nothing except Gud\nhimself and space. So not wishing to dismember himself, Gud decided that\nspace was the only raw material available out of which to fashion new\ntools of creation. There was plenty of space--probably no more than\nthere had always been, but it seemed more because there was nothing in\nit.\n\nAs there was no light, Gud could not see the space, but he knew it was\nthere because it had not been destroyed; moreover, he could feel it. In\nfact it was all about him and plenty more just like it everywhere else.\nSo Gud reached out and felt of the space, and thereby discovered that\nthe space was full of points.\n\nThen Gud picked up two of the points and placed them, one on his right\nand the other on his left.\n\nAnd Gud felt the two points, and lo, there was a straight line between\nthem. As Gud felt of the straight line, he discovered that it was the\nshortest distance between two points. Now Gud remembered that all\nthrough eternity, which was finished and done, a straight line had\nalways been the shortest distance between two points, and Gud remembered\nalso that this was the truth.\n\nAnd the truth that was in the straight line mocked Gud. So he took hold\nof the straight line and bent it until it was no longer straight. But as\nhe bent the straight line another took its place, and truth was still in\nthe straight line; for it was still the shortest distance between two\npoints. So Gud struck off one of the points that was at one end of the\nstraight line. But straightway another point came at the end of that\nwhich remained of the line, and truth was still in the line, for it was\nstill the shortest distance between two points.\n\nAnd Gud became heated with wrath. So he picked up a palm leaf fan and\nfanned himself. Then Gud said: \"That which I cannot destroy I will\nchange.\" And he set about to make a curved line between two points that\nshould be shorter than a straight line.\n\nGud toiled diligently at the task for for what would have been a long\ntime if there had been any time. After he had made an infinite number of\ncurves between the two points, all of which were longer than the\nstraight line, he chanced to make a curve which he fitted between the\ntwo points. When he felt it Gud was filled with pride--for the last\ncurve which he had made was a shorter distance between two points than a\nstraight line, and thus was truth destroyed.\n\nBut this curve which Gud had made was a changing curve, and it continued\nto change. And Gud became frightened so that his knees smote one against\nthe other. The curve ceased not in its changing and presently it had\nchanged so much that it became impossible, and Gud said: \"This thing\nwhich I have made is impossible.\" So he took the impossible curve and\nswung it about his head with a mighty swing and hurled it out of space.\n\nWhen Gud had hurled the impossible curve out of space he felt again\nbetween the two points and found that the straight line had returned,\nand was again the shortest distance between the two points. And Gud\nsaid: \"Let it be so. Old truth is better than new fiction.\"\n\nAnd the eyes of Gud were opened, and he knew that there was much truth\nall about him, and that all space was full of truths and that the truths\nof space were mathematics. And Gud said: \"It is good, for lo, here is\nsomething out of which I can fashion me the tools of creation!\"\n\nSo Gud took a circle and a square, and, with the square, Gud squared the\ncircle. Then he took a plane and planed off the sides of the circle he\nhad squared and so produced a diamond, which is an element. Then Gud\ntransmuted the first element into many elements and so produced matter.\n\nNow Gud was about to mix the matter with the mathematics to form the\nchemical life, but he was weary and sat down to rest by the heap of\nmatter and mathematics and pondered himself whether life was worth the\nmaking. And Gud decided that if he made life he would have to make also\nmany laws of nature to control life and that all of this would be much\ntrouble, especially, if they were to be all hand-made.\n\nAs he sat debating what he should do, Gud picked up a circle, and,\ntoying with it, he happened to turn it about so that it described a\nsphere. It was a thing of beauty and he tossed it up to see how it felt\nfrom a distance. When Gud tossed the sphere it began whirling; and as it\nwhirled, it gave off a sweet sound. The sound pleased Gud and he turned\nother circles about and made more spheres and set them whirling; and\nthey made a concord of sweet sounds which was the music of the spheres\nand like unto the sound made by dewdrops falling on the petals of pale\npoppies by the amber light of a low hung moon shining upon a\nmoss-covered tomb.\n\n\n\n\nChapter IV\n\n\n    Shepherd and Son and little Bo-peep\n    Herd all the souls like frightened sheep.\n    Staff in hand, hair like snow\n    Does even He know where they go?\n\n    A swish as of a sudden wind....\n    An open window ... a candle thinned,\n    From broken bodies' spirits leap\n    To join the flock of frightened sheep.\n\n    So ever They drive them on and on\n    Down the night and over the dawn,\n    And when dusk comes through golden bars\n    They urge them onward up the stars.\n\n\n\n\nChapter V\n\n\nWhen the music had done Gud picked up a curved line which was shaped\nlike a scimetar and whacked at the whirling spheres. Each time Gud\nwhacked, he whacked off a disk from a whirling sphere; and the disks\ncontinued to whirl and ceased not. Soon a corner of space was full of\nwhirling wheels. And Gud wondered what made the wheels go round.\n\nAs he felt the wheels go round Gud remembered a far and distant world he\nhad once visited before he had destroyed the universe. He remembered\nthat this little world had been full of machines and that the machines\nhad wheels going round, and could make things. And Gud remembered as far\nback as a god can remember, and yet he could not recall ever having made\nmachines that made things. He saw that he had been unprogressive to\nhave created with hand tools and never to have made machines nor the\nthings that machines made.\n\nSo Gud resolved straightway to make a creating machine. He gathered the\nwheels together and filled them with substance from the heap of matter\nthat he had made. And then he took squares and triangles and curves and\ncones and rhomboids and tetrahedrons and a great many other things that\nwere in space; and he worked very fast and furiously, and presently he\nhad made a machine which ground with a deafening roar, for it was a\nhigh-speed, self-acting, creating machine, the like of which had never\nbeen.\n\nAnd the machine began to create and to grind out things. But there was\nnothing alive in the things which the creating machine ground out, for\nit had not in it the breath of life, but only the spirit of the machine.\nThose things which the machine made were other machines; and they came\nout of the creating machine endowed with the spirit of the machine, and\nstraightway they began also to turn and grind with a great and\ndiscordant roar.\n\nThe machines of transportation began to distribute the other machines\nthrough space. They roared and shrieked and whistled as they hurtled\nthither and yon, and Gud fled before them.\n\nThen came also great lighting machines and filled all the center of\nspace with light, and drove the darkness into the outer edges of space,\ntoward which Gud had fled.\n\nThere were many myriads of machines that Gud did not know, and he had no\ntime in which to name them. But there were some machines that were very\ndreadful, and of these Gud knew the names and the uses, for he had seen\nthe like of them in the little world of machines he had once visited,\nfor these were killing machines.\n\nBut the killing machines could find nothing to kill for there was not\nany life, but only the machines that were fast filling all space. The\nspirit of the killing machines was not to create but to destroy and they\nboomed and shrieked mightily for their prey. Gud was sore afraid, and\nbecause of the great noise of the machines, he could not remember that\nhe was immortal and need not fear even the killing machines.\n\nSo Gud reached the outer edges of space and stood there in the dark\npanting and trembling. And Gud regretted that he had made the creating\nmachine which had made all of the other machines, and he wondered what\nhe might do to undo what he had done. Then Gud bolstered his courage,\nand walked back into the midst of the roaring machines and bade the\nmachines be still. But only hearing the machines, the talking machines\nand the printing machines obeyed, for they only understood the word of\nGud. Then he commanded the talking machines and the printing machines to\nmake words and news and gossip, and to proclaim to the other machines\nthat they should cease to roar.\n\nAnd the word machines obeyed Gud and made words, but the other machines\nharkened not unto the words of Gud.\n\nGud feared that if the machines did not cease to be made they might fill\nall space, so that nothing else could ever be. Then Gud, remembering\nthat he was immortal, walked up to a great killing machine which gaped\nits terrible maw to swallow him. But Gud feared not and walked into the\nterrible maw and into the throat of the killing machine. And when Gud\ncame out of the bowels of the killing machine he held in his hand a\ngreat sword that was as long as hope deferred and as broad as a liberal\nmind. Carrying the sword, Gud fled again from the midst of the machines\nand to the outer reaches of space.\n\nAnd Gud swung the mighty sword and cut off the edges of space. He made\nhaste, for the machines did fast approach and he feared that they might\nfill all space. So Gud ran about swinging his mighty sword, and shearing\nthe edges of space.\n\nThe edges of space Gud trimmed off from the center of space where the\nmachines were, so that the space occupied by the machines was bounded\nabout by clean edges of space, beyond which no more space was and not\nanything at all.\n\nAnd it came to pass that there was very little space for Gud to be in,\nand the machines came on. Gud stood against the clean edges of space and\nbrandished his mighty sword and cried: \"Come on, ye soulless machines,\nfor I am Gud and I fear ye not.\"\n\nAs the machines came on, Gud swung his sword with might and valor, and\nthe machines that fell before the sword of Gud were as many as there are\nways to displease a woman. So great was the destruction of the machines\nthat the calculating machines did call a halt and asked for a truce. But\nGud would give no quarter. Then the calculating machines, leaving the\nothers to receive the blows of Gud, hied themselves back to the center\nof space where the creating machine was.\n\nAs the result of their calculations, reinforcements came to the cause of\nthe machines. These new recruits came on with whistlings and hummings\nand greater roaring than Gud had yet heard; and his courage was shaken\nso that his sword trembled in his hands, for the new recruits to the\ncause of the machines blew a great blast before them; for they were the\nfans and the blowers.\n\nAnd Gud felt the blast in his face, and his sword swayed and shivered\nlike a feather in the blast. And the blast became a mighty wind and the\nwind blew the sword of Gud from his hand and blew it over the edge of\nspace, so that Gud was unarmed and cried aloud for quarter. But the\nhowling of the blast drowned his cry, and the fans and blowers came on,\nblowing all before them. Gud turned and fled and ran around the narrow\nrim of the edge of space, but the fans and blowers followed after him\nand made a great cyclone that blew around the edges of space. Gud fled\nin the wind and was bruised and torn by the wind and the garments of Gud\nwere shattered and torn ... and Gud was lifted out of space and hurled\ninto an abysmal void where not even space was.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VI\n\n\n    But in that wind beyond all space\n    The blast howled fiercely in his face....\n    Suddenly, from out the sky\n    A mote of dust blew in his eye.\n\n    With pain he slowly rubbed it out,\n    Examined it with passing doubt,\n\n    Then burst into a tide of mirth:\n    It was the cinder of an earth!\n\n\n\n\nChapter VII\n\n\nGud was walking and as he walked he wondered wherein and whereon he was\nwalking. But as he knew all things he realized that he was in the Nth\ndimension and that he was walking along the Impossible Curve which he\nhad thrown out of space.\n\nSo Gud walked along the Impossible Curve in the Nth dimension until he\ncame to a heap of discarded theories. It was a tangled heap and looked\nas if it might be a hiding place of ideas. So Gud caught up one of the\nsturdier theories and shook it, and the dried facts that the theory had\nborne rattled off like rotten fruit from a dead branch. Gud plucked the\ntwigs of hypotheses from the heavier theory--and so made for himself a\nstaff. This he rammed lustily into the tangled heap of theories,\nwhereupon something ran out and leaped along the Impossible Curve.\n\nWhen it stopped, Gud, with his staff in hand, walked after it and came\nup to it, and thought that it was the echo of a voice.\n\n\"What were you doing?\" demanded Gud, \"hiding in that heap of discarded\ntheories?\"\n\n\"Alas,\" said that which Gud thought was the echo of a voice, \"I was not\nhiding. There was nothing left of me to hide, because I was an obedient\nman and gave myself away even as I was told to do.\"\n\n\"What did they tell you to do?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"They told me to do what I did.\"\n\n\"What did you do?\"\n\nThe nothing sighed, and then said faintly: \"I gave my wealth to the\npoor, my mind to my work, my heart to my wife, my life to my country and\nmy soul to my god.\"\n\nGud reached over and picked up the nothing which he had thought was the\necho of a voice. He picked it up by the ears, which were very thin, and\nlooked into its eyes, which were pale pink, and stroked its fur, which\nwas soft and white. Then Gud tied the nothing's ears together and hung\nit over his staff, and proceeded on his way.\n\nAs Gud walked on along the Impossible Curve he saw himself approaching\nto meet him. This made Gud very angry at himself because himself\ninsisted on walking in the opposite direction, which seemed to show Gud\nthat he had a dual nature and could go two ways at once. So Gud charged\nahead to meet himself, and as he approached himself he swung the staff,\nwhich was over his shoulder, with a vicious blow at himself.\n\nIn his anger, Gud had forgotten the nothing which was hanging by its\nears on his staff. As he swung the staff, the Impossible Curve took a\nsudden turn in an unknown direction so that Gud missed himself at which\nhe struck. But that which was hanging by the ears flew off the staff and\nwent hurtling through the deceitful mirror.\n\nIn this new excitement Gud forgot himself and peered through the\ndeceitful mirror to see what had become of nothing. Gud saw that nothing\nwas being chased by something, which Gud recognized as the reflection of\nan Underdog.\n\nThe chase was exciting; the nothing ducked and the reflection of an\nUnderdog leaped over it. Then the nothing turned and started back toward\nthe deceitful mirror, through which Gud was peering. The reflection of\nthe Underdog turned also, and when the quarry reached the mirror it came\nback through and its pursuer came after it.\n\nQuickly Gud swung his staff again and broke the mirror into ten thousand\npieces. Then he turned about and saw, by the contented look on the face\nof the Underdog, that nothing was no more. Gud was glad he had been\nengaged in breaking the mirror and so had not seen the finale of the\nchase, for thus he missed the suffering of the victim and yet could see\nthe satisfaction of the victor.\n\nGud now looked at the staff in his hand and saw that it had borne a\nluscious fruit. He plucked the fruit and tasted it. At first it tasted\nvery sweet but later the taste turned bitter in his mouth. Gud looked\nagain at the staff which he had picked from the heap of discarded\ntheories, and Gud saw that he held in his hand the theory of conquest.\nIn horror he hurled it from him, and it struck the Underdog, who gave\nforth a great howl of pain.\n\nGud felt compassion for the Underdog and picked him up and nursed his\nwound, and the Underdog licked Gud's hands. Then he sat the Underdog\ndown and started on his way, and the Underdog followed at Gud's heels\nalong the Impossible Curve.\n\n\n\n\nChapter VIII\n\n\n    The Gogs are good, the Gogs are great,\n    They rule a realm of real estate.\n    Their greedy little eyes are slits\n    That vision beauty torn to bits,\n    And when the night's aglow with stars\n    They stagger through the lupinars.\n    The Gogs are good, the Gogs are great\n    We slave to rent their real estate;\n    We toil in their behalf like fools,\n    Obey their customs, creeds and rules,\n    Because each intellectual hog\n    Would like to be, and is a Gog!\n\n\n\n\nChapter IX\n\n\nSo they trudged along very happily until they met some one.\n\nGud was dumbfounded. \"What can you be doing on this Impossible Curve?\"\nhe cried, \"for I destroyed everything and my dog has eaten nothing.\nSpeak up, sir, and tell me what you are before I annihilate you again.\"\n\n\"I am Cruickshank, the bookkeeper,\" replied the some one.\n\n\"Ah ha,\" exclaimed Gud, \"and so you are another of those living things\nthat evolved out of the ooze and slime of that little sphere that got\nthe valences of its carbon atoms so dreadfully entangled!\"\n\n\"I am a man,\" said Cruickshank, the bookkeeper.\n\n\"But,\" said Gud, quite exasperated, \"I told you I destroyed everything.\"\n\n\"And so you did,\" agreed Cruickshank, the bookkeeper, \"but do you not\nrecall those that escaped and floated down on the star dust to wait for\nthe day of judgment?\"\n\n\"I certainly remember them very well,\" said Gud, \"but I would have you\nto know that this is not the day of judgment but the day after eternity,\nand what is more, you did not escape on the star dust as you claim, for\nI chased after that bunch and destroyed them quite utterly.\"\n\n\"In a way,\" said Cruickshank, the bookkeeper, \"you did, but we saved our\nsouls by losing them.\"\n\n\"But,\" cried Gud, \"you are not a soul, for see--\" and Gud poked\nCruickshank, the bookkeeper, gingerly in the ribs--\"you are a material\nman with ribs and life and a liver and much orthodox and conventional\nstupidity. In fact, you seem very much like Cruickshank that you always\nwere. How do you explain that?\"\n\n\"The explanation is very simple,\" said Cruickshank, the bookkeeper, \"and\nalso very important; and you would do well not to forget it or tamper\nwith it. I am Cruickshank the bookkeeper, just as I always have been,\nbecause you can not change human nature. And what is more, I tell you\nthat if you divided all the wealth up equally it would be unequal again\nbefore sunset.\"\n\n\"Mere popular fallacies,\" said Gud. \"And now I am going to show you who\nI really am. When my Underdog here barks at the moon you are going to\nchange into a boiled lobster with one great claw--a very red lobster, on\nwhich your insufferable white collar will look quite ridiculous.\"\n\n\"But,\" cried Cruickshank, \"you can not change human nature!\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I know,\" said Gud. \"That is why I am doing it. Now bark,\"\ncommanded Gud, addressing the Underdog, whose name was Fidu.\n\n\"But,\" said Fidu, \"I do not see any moon to bark at.\"\n\n\"Imagine one, stupid,\" said Gud.\n\nSo Fidu imagined a moon to bark at, and barked at the moon he imagined;\nand then he and Gud went on their way, leaving a great, red, boiled\nlobster, wearing a white collar and crawling backward with one claw,\nalong the Impossible Curve.\n\n\n\n\nChapter X\n\n\n    Now Cruickshank was a loyal worker\n    Who frowned upon the average shirker,\n    And in the place where Cruickshank toiled\n    The wheels of work were shrewdly oiled,\n    And profits had a way of rising\n    Which showed the firm as enterprising.\n    Through years that numbered thirty-one\n    Cruickshank hated the owner's son--\n    \"Stool pigeon\" was the name the boy\n    Had given him with whoops of joy.\n    In Cruickshank's breast ambition burned\n    And so he lived and worked and earned,\n    Robbed Paul and Peter, had no gout\n    And made his family go without.\n    Sly Cruickshank in his stealthy way\n    Bought shares in the firm for a rainy day,\n    Existing on a miser's dole\n    For the hour when he would have control,\n    Wander in and announce the doom\n    Of the President's son in the President's room....\n    So Cruickshank labored and did not shirk\n    Though his poor wife died from overwork.\n    But finally came the day of days....\n    Sly Cruickshank asked for a lordly raise.\n    When father and son had answered \"No\"\n    Expecting old Cruickshank to go\n    He shrieked the triumph of his soul:\n    \"You are both discharged--I'm in control----\"\n    The President looked at the President's son;\n    And the son looked at his father's son\n    In a mirror that hung on the wall nearby\n    And carefully straightened his yellow tie.\n    Old Cruickshank waited ill at ease\n    And felt a trembling in his knees--\n    The President spoke: \"Why, we've just mailed\n    The notice that this firm has failed.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XI\n\n\nAfter a long journey Gud came to a place where it looked as if it needed\nrain. So he sat down upon a cactus and took out his horoscope and\nconsulted the stars. Then he made an elliptical ring around a new moon\nand hung the moon low in the sky. And Gud took a scarlet runner bean and\nput it in a pot and lit a fire of cactus thorns and set the pot to boil.\nWhen the thorns began to crackle, an arrogant savor arose from the pot,\nand the vapors of it filled the sky, and through the vapors the new-made\nmoon shown red as the blood of saints torn by lions because of their\nfaith.\n\nGud blew his breath on the fire and it waxed hot as anger and the pot\nboiled over and quenched the fire. Gud reached his hand into the pot and\ndrew out the bean and cut it into three halves. And the left half of the\nbean he ate, and the right half of the bean he cast into Hell, but the\nother half of the bean Gud planted beneath a flat stone that bore the\nfootprint of a hero who had passed that way when the stone was but a\ndrifting sand on a lonely shore.\n\nPresently the bean half sprouted, and the sprout split the stone athwart\nand rent the footprint of the hero. Gud watered the bean with tears,\nbecause there was no rain in that place. So the bean grew and on its\nstem were the leaves of the maiden-hair tree, and the tendrils by which\nthe bean clambered were the tendrils of the snake-feeder vine, and the\nflowers that sprang from the nodules of the bean stalk were the flowers\nof the wormwood tree, but they gave forth the odor of liverworts and\nwere of the color of faded hopes or of stale music.\n\nGud cut marks on the bean pole to observe the rate of growth of the bean\nvine, and he found that it grew much faster than grief dies but not so\nfast as jealousy is born.\n\nAnd when the bean reached the top of the pole and could grow no more, it\nconceived and bore a fruit that was like a ripe gourd. Four eyes grew in\nthe face of the fruit and a dim light shone out of the eyes. And Gud\nheard the patter of tiny feet within, and presently the ghosts of three\nblind mice came out of the four eyes of the fruit, one out of each of\nthe four eyes, for the third one came out twice.\n\n    Oh, under the stars are things to see that fold\n      Their shining webs around the hidden sun....\n    When the flesh is faint and the heart grows limp and old,\n      Surely the work of living is not done.\n\n    There was a breathless stillness and the crowd\n      Leaned forward, looking on and barely stirred.\n    The surgeon, knife in hand, with spotted shroud,\n      Cut close around the heart and said no word.\n\n    They saw his patient die, and whispered one\n      Unto another in the clinic there.\n    But yet the surgeon saw strange actions done\n      That streaked his head with strands of snow-white hair.\n\n    From out the dead man's open chest there crept\n      A shaggy spider shining in the light,\n    That shook itself like one who having slept\n      Puts vainly back the shadows of the night.\n\n    The surgeon clutched his throat. Within his breast\n      He felt a living thing twist here and there;\n    A thing that stirred from out a deep unrest\n      Like something moving through a drowned man's hair.\n\n    The students only saw his hair turn white....\n      But he heard tiny pulses throb and beat,\n    He felt slim fingers clawing out of sight\n      And hearkened to the patter of tiny feet.\n\n    Then shrieking fell across the clinic floor\n      The students pouring from their seats. Stark dead\n    He must have been for he said nothing more;\n      His fingers twitched and once he moved his head.\n\n    They did not see that from his mouth there crept\n      A shaggy spider shining in the light,\n    That shook itself like one who having slept\n      Puts vainly back the shadows of the night.\n\n    Then sideways moved it, trembling as though cold,\n      Following where the other spider ran....\n    Oh, hidden away there are things that are strange and old,\n      And weave strange webs in the very breast of man.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XII\n\n\nAnd the ghosts of the three blind mice sang to Gud as if their hearts\nwould break. They sang of brave deeds, for they had been field mice and\nthey had died upon the field of honor.\n\nAnd when the song was done, Gud wept again; for now he understood why it\nhad never rained in that place.\n\nSo he arose and stamped out the smouldering embers of the fire he had\nbuilded, and whistled for the Underdog. And when the Underdog came he\ndevoured the ghosts of the three blind mice, the one after the other and\nthe third which came out twice, after the one. Then the Underdog licked\nhis chops and Gud sighed, and together they departed from that place,\nvery sorrowful that they had come.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIII\n\n\n\"What are you eating?\" asked Fidu, the Underdog, returning from a\nfruitless chase.\n\n\"I am eating leopard's spots,\" replied Gud; \"will you have some?\"\n\n\"No thanks,\" returned Fidu, \"for they look to me like apples of Sodom or\nDead Sea fruit.\"\n\n\"That is what they are.\"\n\n\"But,\" retorted Fidu, \"you just now said they were leopard's spots.\"\n\n\"So they were,\" said Gud, \"but I changed them.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIV\n\n\nThen Fidu pricked up his ears and listened. And Gud listened also and he\nheard a far-off wailing sound, as of a soul in torment. So he bade Fidu\nto remain where he was, and he cast down his staff for the Underdog to\nwatch, for he was a watchdog also.\n\nThen Gud went on alone to find the cause of the wailing. When he found\nit, behold, it was a soul in pain, and Gud said: \"What can I do to stop\nyour wailing?\"\n\nThe tormented soul replied: \"Oh, comrade, I wail because of the memory\nof injustice and inequality.\"\n\n\"Then your case is simple. I do not know what these things were, the\nmemory of which distresses you, but I have a tube of oblivion here that\nI can assure you will destroy any memory.\"\n\nAt this the soul shrank from Gud and wailed the louder. \"But, I do not\nwant to forget, for that would be unfaithful to the cause.\"\n\n\"Then, what do you want?\" asked Gud impatiently.\n\n\"I want to see the revolution come.\"\n\n\"What is that?\" asked Gud, his curiosity now thoroughly aroused.\n\n\"The revolution,\" said the soul, \"would make a world where all are\nequal, and perfect justice reigns.\"\n\n\"I never heard of a world like that, but I think I can make one. If I do\nso, will that stop your wailing?\"\n\n\"Alas, it cannot be, for the world of equality must be made by the\nworkers themselves.\"\n\n\"But I do not see any workers.\"\n\n\"True, they were all destroyed in the rebellion against their masters.\"\n\n\"Then, where are the masters?\"\n\n\"They were all destroyed in suppressing the rebellion of the workers.\"\n\n\"That must have been quite a fight,\" remarked Gud. \"On which side were\nyou?\"\n\n\"My heart was with the workers,\" said the soul, \"but my training and\ninhibitions were with the masters. Therefore, I was torn between\nopposing forces and was transfixed with horror and remained neutral,\nwhich is why I alone escaped destruction.\"\n\n\"Just what were you?\" asked Gud, a little puzzled.\n\n\"I was a parlor sociologist,\" said the soul, straightening up proudly.\n\n\"I am sorry that you weren't either a master or a worker,\" said Gud,\n\"for your wailing annoys me and it annoyed my dog. I think I had better\ndestroy you now.\"\n\nAt this the soul cringed cowardly, and Gud was annoyed and turned to go,\nwhereupon the soul started wailing more dismally than ever.\n\nGud turned back again and said: \"Whatever it was you wanted, I see I\nwill have to make it for you, because I cannot stand that wailing--it\nsounds like a hell that a friend of mine was experimenting with, and I\ndo not like it.\"\n\n\"I wail,\" said the soul, \"because I remember the injustice and\ninequality, and because the workers are all destroyed and revolution can\nnever be.\"\n\n\"Nonsense! Nothing can never be. Let us make this thing and be done with\nit. What was it you said you wanted?\"\n\n\"The world of equality.\"\n\n\"But just a moment ago you said it was a revolution.\"\n\n\"True. But that was but a means to the end.\"\n\n\"Shall I make the means or the end?\"\n\n\"Alas, neither can ever be, for the workers are destroyed.\"\n\n\"You said that before. You talk in circles like a philosopher, and I\ndon't like philosophers; they are all talk; I believe in action. I don't\nknow what you want, but I heard you say something about a world. I\nunderstand that and can make it--I have made myriads of them just to\npass the time away. Wait a second.\"\n\nWhen he had spoken thus, Gud took out his pocket handkerchief and held\nit up by two corners. \"Now, you see,\" said Gud, as he exhibited first\none side and then the other; \"the handkerchief is perfectly empty.\"\n\nThe soul looked at the handkerchief and saw that Gud spoke the truth.\n\n\"Now watch!\" said Gud, determined to do this thing as impressionably as\npossible. Then, as the soul watched, Gud caught up the other corners of\nthe handkerchief; then he rolled it into a ball and tossed it up and\ncaught it and made magic passes and said: \"Doramialfalfalasido\" and did\nseveral other perfectly useless and unnecessary things, as all magicians\nand miracle workers do. Then he caught the handkerchief by the center\nand shook it out vociferously, and there was a nice virgin world\nspinning round and round, with its axis wabbling a bit so as to give it\na change of climate.\n\nThe soul was duly impressed when it saw a real sky-covered dirt-bottomed\nworld spinning from east to west; and the soul said: \"I beg your pardon,\ncomrade, I did not recognize you as a worker, but I see that you are,\nfor you have created something--pardon me, but have you a card?\"\n\nGud was puzzled for a moment. Then he remembered the cards he had\nprinted when he entered celestial society, and he drew one out and\nhanded it to the soul. The soul could not read the language in which it\nwas printed, and not wanting to admit his ignorance, assumed that it was\nO.K.\n\n\"Now are you satisfied?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"The world pleases me, but there is no one in it.\"\n\nSo Gud took the soul by the hand and they leaped across the void and\nfound themselves in the world Gud had made, and standing in a beautiful\ngarden full of luscious fruit and nice tame animals.\n\nThe soul sighed a little sigh of delight, and sat down on an ant hill\nand began eating alligator pears. Gud strolled around for a few\ncenturies and counted the animals to see if they were all there, and\nbeing satisfied on that point, he went back to the soul, who was still\nsitting on the ant hill eating avacadoes. So Gud went out again and\ncounted the sands of the seashore. He had to count five times to make\nthe count come out twice alike, but in the middle of the fifth count he\nsucceeded and so he went back and found the soul had eaten all the fruit\nin the garden and was beginning to whimper.\n\n\"Oh, bother,\" said Gud, \"are you going to start that wailing again?\nWhat's the matter now?\"\n\n\"I have not the patience,\" the soul cried, \"to wait for the tedious and\nmaterialistic process of evolution to make rational beings; and besides\nif I had, in the struggle for existence they would all become unequal\nand the revolution would still have to be--it might be sanguinary, and\nthe sight of blood makes me sick at my stomach.\"\n\n\"I never said anything about evolution,\" replied Gud. \"As a matter of\nfact, I do not take much stock in it, and many of my friends do not\nbelieve in it at all; besides, it is liable to get out of hand and\nproduce something entirely different from one's designs. So if you will\ntell me what more you want I will make it outright, like I did this\nworld.\"\n\n\"I only want,\" said the soul, \"to see this beautiful place inhabited by\nhappy, rational beings among whom there will be no inequality.\"\n\n\"That means that they must all be exactly alike as atoms of hydrogen.\"\n\n\"Well--yes,\" admitted the soul rather grudgingly. \"I suppose it does, if\nyou put it that way, but it sounds much nicer merely to speak of\nequality.\"\n\n\"Put it any way you like, I want to get the job done and get back to my\ndog. He is faithful enough, but I don't like to put too much strain on\nfidelity. Now, as I get it, you want this world peopled with rational\nbeings that are all alike. I am ready to make them, only what kind do\nyou want--something like yourself?\"\n\n\"No! no! not like me, for I am a weak and selfish fence-straddler.\nMoreover, I am too modest to be used as a prototype for the members of a\nperfect world.\"\n\n\"Worse than that, you are a ghost and immaterial and invisible to animal\neyes. If I filled the world with creatures like you, the animals might\nwalk right through them--No, we want material beings.\"\n\n\"Then materialize me,\" cried the soul in sudden eagerness.\n\n\"Hold on, if I materialize you in your present immaterial likeness, then\nall the beings I am to make for this world would have to be like you or\nyou would be the exception and spoil the equality.\"\n\n\"That is so,\" admitted the soul.\n\n\"We are standing here talking like metaphysicians. If there is anything\nI hate worse than philosophers, it is metaphysicians which are\nphilosophers bereft of what commonsense they did have. I have made this\nworld scientifically,\" continued Gud, \"but the work you want done now is\na work of art, and I shall need a model. Since you refuse to be used as\na model, I will have to resort to an old trick of my profession.\"\n\nGud paused significantly and walked over to a nearby pool of water that,\nhaving sought its level in a quiet nook, was very placid. He bent over\nthe pool for a moment and smiled in a pleased fashion at what he saw.\nBut the position was unpleasant and the ground at the edge of the pool\nwas damp and stained his robe where it stretched over his knees. So Gud\npicked up the pool and propped it up against a rock in a nearly vertical\nposition.\n\nHis reflection in the propped-up pool was still more pleasing and Gud\ncalled the soul over to him:\n\n\"I am going to use my reflection for a model,\" said Gud, \"to fashion the\ncreatures you want to people this world. To try the idea out first, I am\ngoing to re-do you in my own image.\"\n\nThe soul was mute with embarrassment and suffered Gud to place it upon a\nhastily constructed easel. Then, glancing at his own reflection in the\npropped-up pool, Gud, with a few deft strokes, redid the soul into an\nimage of himself.\n\nGud lifted the re-done soul down from the easel and set it over beside\nthe propped-up pool, and then stood back and looked at his own\nreflection and then at the soul which he had re-made in his own image:\nand the only way he could tell them apart was by the background.\n\n\"That's one of the best pieces of copying I ever did,\" cried Gud. \"I am\ndelighted with my craftsmanship. But before I make the rest of the\ncrowd, I think we had better materialize ourselves, otherwise there\nwould not be equality in the world, because we would be immaterial and\nhence be different from the others.\"\n\n\"Quite right, you are, comrade,\" said the soul, who was now the image of\nGud and so had to agree with him.\n\nGud looked around for some clever trick by which he could make this\nmaterialization impressive--and the soul also looked around, being Gud's\ndouble and having identical thoughts. When Gud saw that his thoughts\nwere the soul's thoughts, he was annoyed, because he saw he could not do\nanything now to astonish or impress the soul. So Gud decided to\nmaterialize without any hocus pocus, and the soul thought what Gud\nthought; so they materialized themselves without more ado.\n\n\"Well,\" said Gud, \"let's make the rest of us.\"\n\n\"That's what I was thinking,\" agreed the soul.\n\n\"And shall we be savage or civilized?\"\n\n\"Civilized,\" said the soul; \"of course, it will be a lot of bother to\nmake all the appurtenances of civilization, but one can't have equality\nas long as there is savagery and poverty in the world.\"\n\n\"That's just what I was thinking,\" agreed Gud, annoyed to find himself\nthinking the soul's thoughts.\n\nSo Gud, and his image that had been the soul, made a world full of\ncivilized beings and all the appurtenances of civilization, and they did\nit very quickly, for they were both impatient to find themselves\nthinking the other's thoughts, and were desirous to get the job done and\nget away from that world and get back to the Underdog.\n\nAnd when they had done this thing they found themselves in a great\nconvention hall that had arisen where the garden had been. The hall was\nfull of creatures made in the exact image of Gud and in the image of the\nsoul that Gud had re-made in his own image.\n\nAs Gud glanced around, marveling at the myriads of creatures that were\nexactly alike, he suddenly realized that he could no longer identify the\nsoul for which he had done all this--and for a brief moment he was very\nmuch relieved for that particular creature had annoyed him grieviously.\n\nBut Gud's relief was of short duration, for it was dawning upon his\nconsciousness that he had done a terrible thing, because all these\nmyriads of creatures about him looked just like himself. And Gud saw\nthat he had no longer the one Gud but one of a myriad of Guds; and that\nhe had lost his distinction and position and superiority, and all the\nother satisfying attributes that attach to the office and function of\nbeing Gud.\n\nHow it would all have ended, not even Gud knew, but just then they all\nsaw a stream of smoke in one of the galleries and they all shouted:\n\"Fire.\" There was a wild scramble. And when the Guds nearest the fire\nhad stamped out the flames, the real Gud had been lost in the turmoil\nand confusion, and did not know which one of the myriads of Guds was\nhimself and which were the other Guds made in the image of himself.\n\nIt was very distressing.\n\nFor three days and seven nights Gud went around that world of equality,\nwondering who he was and whether he was Gud or one of the imitation\nGuds; and all the imitation Guds went around wondering whether they were\nGud or one of the imitation Guds.\n\nAnd then a joyful event happened! The Underdog had become worried over\nhis master's long absence and had trailed him with his unerring canine\nscent. Coming into the confusion of this world of equality, the Underdog\nwalked right up to the honest-to-God Gud, leaped up and sat himself upon\nhis own true master's shoulder and barked with delight, and licked the\ncheek of his master.\n\nWhen he saw the action of his dog, Gud knew again for a surety that he\nwas himself. With a mighty cry of deliverance from this torture and\nterror of pure democracy and achieved equality, Gud called down\nlightning from on high and earthquakes from below and winds from abroad\nand floods from the seas, and destroyed the world of equality once and\nfor all and forever, and all that was therein contained, and all the\nmyriads of fraudulent Guds he had so foolishly made in his own image to\nplease the longing for equality in the soul of the parlor sociologist,\nand thereby stop its wailing.\n\nAnd when the fire and flood and the winds and the earthquakes had done\ntheir work with neatness and dispatch, Gud and the Underdog went on\ntheir way rejoicing, and Gud made three cats for the Underdog to chase.\nThey were all alike because they were copycats, and the Underdog would\nchase one and then the other and then all three at once.\n\nGud sat down and laughed at the troubles of the Underdog, because the\npoor beast, despite his canine instinct, could not tell one cat from the\nother two, and could not catch any of them because they were always\ncrossing each other's paths, so that the Underdog would chase the others\nand give the one a chance to rest.\n\nBut being cats, they were not friendly, even though they were copycats;\nand finally they ran into each other and began to fight among themselves\nand to chase each other around in a circle.\n\nNow the Underdog was wise, and he stopped running and sat down on the\nedge of the circle and got the one and then the other, which left only\nthe third. Then Gud called off his dog, and also called up the last\ncopycat for a bowl of cream; and the Underdog and the copycat drank\ncream together out of the same bowl. Which proves, dear children, the\nimportance of a good example and demonstrates the power of kindness.\n\nSo Gud, and the Underdog, and the copycat all started walking along the\nImpossible Curve, all of them wondering what the next adventure would\nbe. But I think we had better go to bed, for too much of this kind of\nstuff is likely to make us talk indiscreetly in our sleep.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XV\n\n\nA great storm of the far-flung astronomical elements arose without\ncause. The like of it had never been before nor since and it disobeyed\nall laws, both known and unknown, natural and unnatural. Gud was sore\npuzzled because the storm was without cause but not without effect. He\nran hither and here and darted thither and yon, and in the turmoil he\nwas separated from Fidu, his faithful Underdog.\n\nThe impalpable ether that fills all space became palpable and vibrated\nand palpated with incommensurate waves; and the non-popitent nether\nwhich is beyond all space became popitent and gyrated and popitated with\ncalculatious ostenulations.\n\nThroughout the abysmal reaches of indefinite dimension the far-flung,\nflaming suns were exploding with blinding flashes and deafening roars,\nand their molten fragments were spewing and spilling this way and that,\nknocking constellations asunder and painting cold, dead worlds with\nliquid fire and blazing splendor.\n\nComets fell, dragging their tails behind them, twisting and writhing as\nif in pain. And the stars were falling, too. Meteors pattered as rain\nupon the roof of heaven. Broken nebulae whipped along as snow-flakes\ndriven of the northwest wind. Pleiades smashed like hail through the\nwindows of space. Vile smelling gasses blew about all the interstellar\nvoid and vastness. Tornadoes and mighty cyclones and vortices torned and\ncycled vorted.\n\nAll this frightened Gud, so that he sought for shelter from the storm.\nJust then a little world came rolling by, and it wabbled as it rolled.\nIt did not look very safe, but it was solid underfoot. Gud boarded it\nand found himself before a tiny cabin on the wabbling world. The cabin\nwas built of old cracker boxes and looked frail as a ten-cent toy; but\nthere was no other cover at hand, so Gud knocked on the cabin door to\nask for shelter.\n\nWhen no one answered, Gud entered and closed the door behind him. There\nbefore him sat a dear little widow knitting a bellyband for someone\nelse's baby. She was so deaf she could not hear quinine, and so blind\nshe could not see a house afire, and had catarrah so badly that she\ncould not smell a herring; but for all that she was a very good cook.\n\nGud addressed her in telepathy, saying: \"I wonder if you would make me a\ncake?\"\n\nAnd the woman replied by thought transference and answered: \"Alas, I\ncannot make you a cake today, for I have but one hen and she has already\nlaid her one egg this morning, and I have eaten it for my breakfast.\"\n\nThen Gud said: \"If you will show me the hen, perhaps I can persuade her\nto lay another egg.\"\n\nSo the woman called to the hen in the language of beasts and birds, and\nthe hen came out from under the bed where she had been looking for\ninsects. Gud saw that the hen had false teeth and was getting old, for\nher comb was pale as roses in the night. So he flattered the vanity of\nthe hen by commenting on the beauty of her scarlet comb. Whereupon she\nlaid another egg, whilst without the cottage the astronomical storm\nraged on.\n\nThe widow picked up the egg and found that it was as fresh as home grown\nlettuce. She made a curtsy to Gud and said: \"I perceive that you are a\nwise magician, for who ever heard of a stupid one that could make a hen\nlay two fresh eggs in one day? And now I will make a little cake, which\nwill be big enough for one to eat.\"\n\n\"Make it for two,\" said Gud, \"for I would not like to eat alone.\"\n\n\"But,\" said the widow, \"how can I unless I have another egg, and the hen\nhas already laid two eggs in one day. How can she lay another?\"\n\n\"I do not know,\" said Gud, \"but I will find out.\"\n\nSo he called to the little hen again and gave her a homily on the evils\nof race suicide. The hen became as moral as a tombstone and grievously\nwrought up over the way her sisters were neglecting their duty, so that\nshe laid yet another egg.\n\nThe widow picked up this egg and shook it also, and saw that it was even\nfresher than the other one, and she made another curtsy to Gud and said:\n\"I perceive that you are a great fakir, but you are very clever, and so\nI will make a cake for two and we shall eat it together, and perhaps\nhave a cup of tea, if there is any sugar in the house.\"\n\nAt last the cake was put into the oven. The fire of the oven waxed hot\nand the cake began to rise nicely. And when it had risen above the top\nof the pan and almost to the top of the oven, the dear little widow\nopened the oven door ever so softly. As she peeked in, a nearby\nconstellation broke asunder; the crash of the breaking shook the\nwobbling world like a great earthquake, the cottage jarred as with a\nblow from the hand of wrath, and the cake fell and was ruined utterly.\n\nThen the dear little widow began to weep because her cake had fallen,\nand she was very angry through her tears and said: \"What is the matter\nand what happened and what ruined my cake?\"\n\n\"I fear me, it is the storm outside,\" replied Gud.\n\n\"Then I think you ought to go out and stop it.\"\n\n\"I will,\" agreed Gud.\n\nAnd he went out and stopped the storm, and while he was out he destroyed\nthe major portion of the local law of gravitation.\n\nWhen he came back into the cottage, the moral little hen was all\na-cackling and the dear little widow was all a-smiling, for behold, the\nhen was looking at the widow, who in her hand held the lightest cake she\nhad ever lifted.\n\nAfter he had had his cake and eaten it, too, Gud returned to the\nImpossible Curve, and as he reached it, Fidu came romping forth to meet\nhim.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVI\n\n\nAs Gud passed on along the way he saw a white-haired man sitting in a\nwindow of the sky and writing with a tattered goose quill pen, which he\ndipped into a pool of blood.\n\n    He was a sad old man with gloomy eye,\n      Who wrote with slow and studied inference,\n    Heaving the while some long and doleful sigh,\n      Or staring about with bored indifference.\n\n    Around his body there were ragged clothes\n      As hung upon a scarecrow in the corn,\n    And on his coat was pinned a withered rose,\n      From which he slowly plucked each barbed thorn.\n\n    Gud stopped upon his way and questioned him.\n      \"I am a lonely soul,\" the old man said,\n    \"Within this rose I find that life is grim,\n      Without its thorns, why even beauty's dead!\"\n\n    Gud wondered, yet it would not be polite\n      To break the old man's tale of woe.\n    \"I'd like to know,\" the ancient said, \"the candle-light--\n      When we have blown it out where does it go?\"\n\n    \"I do not know,\" said Gud, \"do you?\"\n    \"Ah yes,\" replied the old man, \"I know very well,\n    For I remember as if it were but yesterday how\n    Half dead and famished, the desert in my eyes\n      And hunger written on my lips\n    I stood there like a captain on a hill\n      Dreaming of his broken ships.\n\n    \"I kicked aside a stone that crushed a skull;\n      When from that mouth that mouldered there,\n    There came as if it were the voice of doom,\n      A haunting cry that chilled the air.\n\n    \"Then suddenly I laughed and turned my heel\n      In that dead face; and laughing still\n    I danced along the sands, played hide and seek\n      And chased my shadow up a hill.\"\n\nAnd when the old man had done with these foolish words he suddenly\nseized the rose upon his coat and tore it off and cast it from him. Then\nhe picked up his tattered goose quill pen and dipped it in a pool and\nbegan to write furiously.\n\nWhen the old man paused and stared up vacantly, Gud spoke to him and\nasked: \"What are you writing?\"\n\nThereupon the old man made answer and said to Gud: \"I am writing a cook\nbook for cannibals.\"\n\nBeing a vegetarian in theory if not in practice, Gud was not interested,\nand he passed on, walking rapidly, so that he presently overtook a man\nwho was following stealthily after yet another man.\n\nHe who followed stooped frequently and, with a two-pronged instrument,\npicked up objects from the pavement. These he cast into a brazier that\nhe carried, wherein that which he picked up sizzled and burned and made\na stench in its burning.\n\nGud wot not what the man did and would know, so he plucked at the sleeve\nof yet another citizen of that place and asked of him: \"Who be these\ntwo, the one that walks alone with his face aloft, and the other that\nfollows after, stooping and searching for filth?\"\n\nSaid the citizen: \"These be our Genius and our Critic.\"\n\n\"And what do they?\" asked Gud.\n\nTo this the citizen replied: \"The Genius talks words, and the Critic\nfollows after, and, as the words fall from the lips of Genius, the\nCritic picks them up with the tongs of contempt and burns them in the\nbrazier of public opinion.\"\n\n\"But why,\" asked Gud, \"do the words of the Genius make a stench in their\nburning?\"\n\n\"Because,\" said the citizen, \"they are vile.\"\n\nGud doubted that which the citizen told him, and he quickened his steps\nand made bold to pass close to the Critic. Whereupon Gud, who could see\nall things, saw that the words of the Genius which the Critic picked up\nwere not vile but beautiful; and that, when the Critic made a pass\ntoward the brazier, he put the word not therein but dropped it instead\ninto a wallet which he carried beneath his mantle.\n\nGud was angered and he grasped the fellow by his egotism and shook him\nuntil his conceit rattled and made inferential allegations of hypocrisy.\n\n\"What is it to you,\" demanded the Critic, \"if I spit into the brazier to\nmake a stench to please the people?\"\n\n\"But what do you with the words of Genius?\"\n\n\"By the holy name of Public Opinion! Why should a man do the work of a\nstreet cleaner on the salary of a critic?\"\n\n\"I have been a public official myself,\" replied Gud sympathetically,\n\"and I know how ill such service is paid.\"\n\nThis pleased the Critic and he turned and looked into Gud's face and saw\nthere the satisfied look of self-sufficient authority which he\nrecognized as akin to his own. Plucking confidentially at Gud's sleeve\nhe said: \"As you appreciate that I must live by subtle ways, then\nperhaps I can interest you in a few choice verbal gems.\"\n\nGud realized that purchasing these words was probably illegal in this\nworld. But it wasn't his world, so he said: \"I should like to look at\nthem.\"\n\nThe Critic led Gud into the rear room of a perfectly respectable place\nand opened up his wallet. Here, in a secluded corner, he emptied the\ncontents upon a table.\n\nGud began fingering over the verbal gems.\n\n\"Look at this,\" the Critic cried, picking up a brilliant one.\n\n\"Too scintillating for the quiet setting I have in mind,\" replied Gud.\nThen after examining a few more, he asked: \"What will you take for the\nlot?\"\n\n\"My price for the lot,\" said the Critic, \"is the gift of power to speak\nmyself such words of genius as I have been defaming to please the\npeople, for I am weary of being a mere word picker and moral scavenger.\"\n\nGud answered: \"I can give a Critic the power to walk down the street and\nspill words but I can not make a Genius pick them up.\"\n\n\"Sold!\" said the Critic, pushing the verbal gems across the table--and\nimmediately he began to babble words. But Gud noted that they were only\nwords of great talent.\n\nAs he looked over the verbal gems he had purchased, Gud decided that he\nhad no use for them, and so he called to the departing Critic: \"Where\ncan I sell these words?\"\n\n\"Go to Hell,\" shouted the Critic over his shoulder.\n\nSo Gud went to Hell, and reaching the gate thereof he knocked and cried:\n\"Is this the place where one brings the words of Genius?\"\n\nAs Gud knew all things he knew the answer to his question before he\nasked it, but he thought it best to ask anyway in order to verify his\nomniscience. In this case it was wrong.\n\n\"No,\" said the gate keeper, and he gave Gud the correct address.\n\nThe way took Gud past seven more hells, for the people of this sphere,\nbeing a righteous people, were amply helled.\n\nReaching at last the bottom-most vault beneath the deepest hell, Gud\ncame upon a junk shop.\n\nAs he entered, the proprietor, who looked both old and young, asked;\n\"Comest thou to buy or to sell?\"\n\n\"I have a few words which I might sell,\" said Gud.\n\n\"I am not much interested in words,\" replied the proprietor, who looked\nboth old and young, \"for I am a dealer in sin, and the sinfulness of\nwords is much over-rated.\"\n\n\"But the words I have are the words of Genius.\"\n\n\"Is the genius dead?\" asked the dealer.\n\n\"Not yet, but he is being hounded by a critic.\"\n\n\"I'll take them in trade,\" suggested the dealer.\n\n\"What do you offer?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Anything you wish. I have a very complete catalog on crimes.\"\n\n\"I am interested in sin in a sort of professional way,\" admitted Gud,\n\"let me see your goods.\"\n\nVery graciously the dealer escorted Gud through the chambers where his\nstock of sins was stored.\n\nIt was a magnificent collection. There were huge piles of thefts of\nproperty and of honor and virtue and of good name, and great bales of\nuntold lies. There were infinite infidelities and even a greater number\nof credulities. There were a few ragged ends not justified by the means,\nand many tyrannical prohibitions and faded blue laws, and a carefully\nlocked cabinet, labeled \"Old Maids' Wishes.\"\n\nThere were easy sins for beginners and more difficult sins for hardened\ncriminals. There were sins with which children might please their\nfathers and sins for fathers to visit upon their children and their\nchildren's children. There were sins against men which are often\nforgiven and sins against women which are never forgiven. There were\nsins for the rich and sins for the poor, and a few rare sins suitable\nfor both.\n\nThe old dealer sighed as they passed the murder counter. \"Some of this\nstock moves very slowly,\" he confessed. \"Indeed it keeps me busy\nnow-a-days finding enough fresh stock to supply the demand.\"\n\nGud was a little puzzled over the nature of this business. \"Your trade,\"\nhe remarked, \"is, I suppose, with the inhabitants of these neighboring\nhells, supplying them with new kinds of sins?\"\n\n\"No indeed,\" replied the dealer, who seemed a little insulted. \"The\ndwellers in hells are fed up on sin. I never deal with branded sinners.\nI cater only to the best of righteous trade.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see, you bootleg sin in the heavens.\"\n\n\"No, no, I trade with mortals, and I sell only to the conscientious and\nthe righteous.\"\n\n\"And yet, you are stocked with every sin in the calendar; where is the\nvalue to the righteous in such stock?\"\n\n\"Merely a matter of time and place,\" explained the dealer, \"and the\nprevailing ethical ideas of my clients. You see my business is to buy up\nthe moral offal of one place or time and sell it at another time or\nplace when or where it has high value as virtue.\"\n\n\"Do you sell for cash or credit?\"\n\n\"As I do not deal with hardened sinners who would admit the value of my\nwares, but only with the righteous, I dare not give credit. But as for\ncash, that is not practical either, as there can be no universal medium\nof exchange between people whose fundamental ideas of morality\ndiffer--so I am obliged to trade by barter.\"\n\n\"That must be troublesome.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" agreed the dealer, \"relative values differ so--in some spheres a\nmurder is considered more than equal to a life time of dishonesty--in\nother realms murder is considered an equitable payment for the mere\naccusation of untruthfulness. But the exchange values of different kinds\nof thefts bother me most, they are so illogical. I have one group of\nclients who place a value on thievery in an inverse ratio to the size of\nthe theft. Only last week one of them who had robbed a nation swept by\nwinter winds of all its fuel resources wished to exchange his deed for\nthe idea of pilfering a lock of hair from the head of his neighbor's\nwife. Indeed the difficulty of finding a logical ratio between the\nimmoral value of a theft and the value of the property stolen is one of\nthe most baffling problems in the mathematics of sin.\"\n\n\"A very interesting business you have,\" commented Gud, \"and pray, how\ncame you to be in it?\"\n\n\"It was my father's idea, for he was a great student of morals, and\nnoting how they changed from age to age, he saw that if the discarded\ncrimes and abominations of one time or place could be transplanted to\nother times and places, they would have great value as virtues. It was\nonly necessary to achieve immortality to make the venture practical. My\nfather did not achieve that for himself, as his arteries had started to\ncalcify before he discovered the immortality vitamin. But I fell heir to\nhis efforts and ideas, and I have little fault to find with the outcome.\n\n\"But of late business has not been so good. There is too much\nintercommunication: the moral values of murders, for instance, were once\nthe main profit of the house, and we could not get enough to satisfy the\nvarious moral ends for which murder was justified. But now times have\nchanged and privately initiated murder hardly classes as moral\nanywhere.\"\n\n\"Then why do you not quit retailing, and trade in wholesale murders?\"\n\nThe dealer shook his head sadly. \"Impractical,\" he sighed. \"I can not\ndeal with states, since being without conscience they have no awareness\nof sin, no sense of repentance and hence have nothing to offer in\nexchange.\"\n\nIn payment for the words of genius, which he left with the dealer, Gud\nselected a little sin that he had been wishing to commit all his life,\nand so he departed greatly pleased with his possession.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVII\n\n\nAs Gud was passing up through hell he saw two souls which were not being\nproperly punished, but were strolling about as trusties of the place.\nGud approached them and asked: \"Why are you two not being properly\npunished?\"\n\nThe first soul made answer and said to Gud: \"We need none of these\ngrosser punishments such as increased temperature and breathing SO_{2},\nwhich the ancients, who imagined hell, were able, in the limits of their\nscientific knowledge, to imagine. The reason that we need no such crude\nmaterial punishments is because our spiritual suffering is quite\nenough.\"\n\nAnd Gud saw that the soul spake the truth, for the face of both of these\ntrusty souls were lined with seamy sorrow. As Gud looked upon their\nsufferings he wondered why it was they suffered so, and he asked: \"In\nwhat did you two sin one by one that you should be punished two by two?\"\n\nAnd the second suffering soul replied, \"I sinned because I believed too\nvehemently that there was no god, and my companion here, because he\nbelieved over confidently that there was a god.\"\n\n\"But is it not strange,\" asked Gud, \"that you two, who held such\nopposite doctrines, should now suffer similar punishment? How do you\nexplain that?\"\n\nThe first soul now took up the conversation with his mouth and made\nanswer in this wise: \"We suffer now with equal suffering, I because,\nbelieving that there was no god, found, when I died, that there was one,\nand he sent me to hell. But my companion here, who believed that there\nwas a god, found when he died that there was none; and so he came to\nhell also, as there was no place else for him to go.\"\n\nFor a moment Gud looked upon these suffering souls with puzzlement and\nwonder, and then suddenly he began to laugh.\n\n\"Why do you laugh at our sufferings?\" demanded the souls angrily.\n\n\"I am laughing at you two,\" said Gud, \"because when you died you both\ncame to hell--whereas if neither of you had believed in immortality you\nwould not have needed to have gone anywhere.\"\n\nAs Gud was passing through a dismal swamp, he came to a certain cypress\ntree and sat down on a knee thereof. And presently she came also and sat\ndown upon the other knee of the cypress tree, and they talked about the\nmeeting of parallel lines.\n\nBut they could not agree so Gud proposed that they cut their initials on\nthe bark of the cypress tree.\n\nThey did so, after which they parted. And Gud went on his way and so did\nshe.\n\nBut when Gud had vanished into the depths of the dismal swamp, she\nturned and went back to the cypress tree and looked at the initials that\nthey had carved thereon. Taking the knife that Gud had left sticking in\nthe tree, she carved a word below the initials. Having finished the\ncarving, she looked up into the branches above her and behold the\nfoliage of the tree had withered. Then she repented for what she had\ndone, and in great haste, took the knife and carved yet another word.\nWhereupon the tree put out fresh buds and grew again--for such is the\npower of words for good or evil.\n\nAnd she smiled contentedly, for hers was the last word.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XVIII\n\n\nLo, the north wind trembled and the sea of sorrow froze into beauteous\nfrost forms that shimmered all lacy and green like ferns waving in an\nancient breeze. And frozen frogs came out of the frost ferns, croaking\nand bellowing like mad, green bulls.\n\nThe Underdog whimpered because he was afraid. So Gud bade the frogs be\nquiet, and they were quiet with a great quietude, and peace reigned for\na spell or two.\n\nAfter which Gud traveled on until he met a rich merchant who was riding\nacross an ice floe on a camel that was gaily caparisoned and had\ntrappings of gold and was shod with silver shoes. And the rich merchant\nhailed Gud and said: \"Whither goest thou on this sleek, icy desert?\"\n\nAnd Gud said: \"I go my way rejoicing. But why is your eye so troubled?\"\n\nThe merchant replied: \"I go in search of a strawstack.\"\n\nWhen his master said that, the camel stomped on the ice with his silver\nshod foot and cut a round hole in the ice and kneeled down and drank his\nfill of ice water.\n\nWhile the camel was kneeling, the rich merchant invited Gud to mount\nupon the camel. Gud did so and the camel arose and lumbered on his\nslippery way.\n\nThe merchant and Gud sat in the howdah and smoked a hooka and told tales\nof barter and of gain. This is one of the tales they told, and it\nmatters not which one told it, for it is a lie anyway.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XIX\n\n\n    It was a great occasion--every seat\n      Was filled and jewels sparkled rich and bright--\n    One almost heard each throbbing heart that beat\n      As the orchestra filed in that gala night.\n    The music flared in one triumphal blast,\n      The leader swung his baton: the curtain rose:\n    Then the soprano sang of bright skies overcast,\n      And silence fell upon the watching rows.\n\n    Just at that moment, some one in the crowd\n      Saw wisps of black smoke curl around a board.\n    He shouted \"fire!\" It was as though a shroud\n      Was flung around them by a righteous Lord.\n\n    The crowd surged forth like streams that over-flow--\n      And ran amuck, insane with fear and rage....\n    Just then an unknown player of the piccolo\n      Upclambered o'er the footlights to the stage:\n\n    \"Hold! Hold!\" he cried, and waved his piccolo;\n      \"Be calm! There is no danger, if you're quiet!\"\n    Then through the Opera House there echoed low\n      Such music as would calm the greatest riot.\n\n    They faltered, then they heeded his desire,\n      Then paused to hearken with suspended breath,\n    And spellbound listened through that awful fire\n      Till every one of them was burned to death.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XX\n\n\nAnd now the rich merchant pointed out upon the horizon a small speck\nwhich was no larger than a woman's honesty. As the camel journeyed on\ntoward the horizon the speck grew in size until it was as large as the\nhope of inheritance. And when they finally came up to it, behold it was\na strawstack!\n\nThe camel started to eat the straw, but the merchant jumped down and\nbelabored the beast over the head with a marlin pin--whatever that\nis--and cried: \"Cease, thou gluttonous, stupid beast; knowest thou not\nthat thou wilt impale thy parched throat?\"\n\n\"Why belaborest thou the camel?\" asked Gud, solicitously.\n\n\"Because, there is a needle in this strawstack, and I came from the four\ncorners of the earth to find it. Do you think I am going to let this\nfool beast devour it?\"\n\nSo Gud offered to hold the camel's halter while the rich merchant\nsearched the strawstack for the needle.\n\nAfter the merchant had looked in all the straws but one he gave up in\ndespair, for he had not found the needle.\n\n\"Perseverance, dear, my lord, keeps honor bright,\" quoth Gud.\n\nGreatly encouraged, the rich merchant looked into the last straw and\nfound the needle. In glee he shouted and held up the needle in one hand\nand the last straw in the other.\n\n\"I perceive,\" said Gud, \"that you are a prince of industry. But you are\nalso in a dilemma. If you try the last straw first and break the camel's\nback, then how can the poor beast go through the eye of the needle?\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXI\n\n\n\"Who was that fellow,\" asked Fidu, \"who passed me just now with such a\nwild, wild look in his eye?\"\n\n\"That fellow,\" replied Gud, \"was an author who just spent a week-end\nwith me.\"\n\n\"And what did you do to him?\" asked Fidu. \"He was as crazy as the\nnebular hypothesis.\"\n\n\"Upon his request I criticized his book, which he insisted on reading to\nme.\"\n\n\"But what did you say about it?\" demanded Fidu, \"he looked as locoed as\na lop-eared logarithm.\"\n\n\"I made several criticisms. I told him that his plot was choppy, and\nthat most of it was stale; that the work lacked sadly in originality and\nthere was considerable repetition. I said it was very melodramatic in\nspots and that it had entirely too many murders, and that many of the\nbiggest murderers seemed to escape without punishment. I also told him\nthat it was full of sordid realism and most unhappy endings, that it was\noverloaded with action, and worst of all, it utterly lacked any evidence\nof a distinct moral purpose.\"\n\n\"Well no wonder,\" said Fidu, \"that the poor fellow was raving; you made,\nif I may say so, quite a severe criticism.\"\n\n\"I grant that, but his book deserved it--everything I said about it was\nabsolutely true.\"\n\n\"What did he call his book?\" asked Fidu.\n\n\"He called it,\" replied Gud, \"'An Outline of History.'\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXII\n\n\nPresently Gud ran dead against an ivory wall; but being versed in\naviation, he flew over it. Having done so he went on walking. Gud\nperceived that he was walking in a kingdom, and he walked warily, for he\nwas doubtful whether monarchy was an ideal form of government.\n\nHis doubts increased as he noted the subjects of the kingdom, for they\nappeared to be full of guile. So when he became tired and sleepy, he\ndurst not enter into an abode, but lay down beneath a friendly tree and\nfell asleep.\n\nWhen Gud awoke he found that his sandals had been stolen from off his\nfeet. This made him very sorrowful, for his sandals had been well broken\nto fit his own feet but he was worried lest they might hurt the feet of\nthe thief. So he made a hue and cry. When a subject of the kingdom\nappeared, Gud demanded to be taken at once to the king.\n\nThe king, being self-made, was not very wise and did not perceive that\nGud was his equal; therefore Gud was obliged to kneel on the little mat\nthat the king kept before his throne so that visitors would not bruise\ntheir knees on the agate floor.\n\nWhen Gud had done kneeling and salaaming, the king offered him a\ncigarette and selected a cigar for himself. Then he asked how the crops\nwere where Gud came from.\n\n\"They are very good,\" said Gud, \"but the morals in your kingdom are\nnot.\"\n\nTo Gud's astonishment, the king replied meekly: \"I know it.\"\n\nGud now related to the king how the very sandals had been stolen from\noff his feet as he slept beneath the tree.\n\n\"Oh, wise stranger,\" cried the king, \"it grieves me much to have you,\nwho come from a distant realm, discover that I have thus failed in the\nfirst duty of government which is the protection of property. Therefore\nlet me make restitution for the injury done you in my kingdom.\"\n\nThe king now sent a lackey to his treasure vault, and he fetched Gud a\npair of jeweled sandals which fitted his feet perfectly.\n\nGud's grief being assuaged and his anger abated, he was genuinely sorry\nfor this stupid king, and said to him: \"I have knocked about a bit and\npicked up a few ideas in practical politics, so perhaps I can help you.\"\n\n\"It is my shame and sorrow,\" confessed the king, \"to admit to you that I\nrule over a realm of thieves. We were formerly proud of our talents in\nthat direction, for at one time this kingdom was surrounded by rich\nneighbors and our prosperity was based on the capturing of bounteous\nbooty from our enemies. Alas, our enemies combined and built a great\nivory wall and walled us in. And now my people steal from each other. I\nhave issued countless edicts against stealing, and even crucified a few\nthieves, but it avails me nothing. My people steal and are proud of it.\nYet there is honor among my thieves. They are at heart law-abiding and\ntruth-telling citizens.\"\n\n\"How do you know they are?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"I know, because I had a census taken in which I asked each and every\none if he were a thief, and all the thieves answered most truthfully\nthat they were thieves.\"\n\n\"How do you know they answered truthfully?\" questioned Gud, as he\nflecked his ash. \"And if they are thieves, how can they be law-abiding\ncitizens?\"\n\n\"That explanation is easy. You see, my people do not consider my edicts\nagainst stealing as law because they maintain that it conflicts with\ntheir established habits.\"\n\n\"Did you say all of your citizens were thieves?\"\n\n\"No, not all; sixty per cent., to be specific. If you do not understand\npercentage, that means that there are three thieves for every two honest\nmen.\"\n\nWhen the king said this Gud's eyes brightened and a satisfied smile\nbeamed on his courtly countenance. \"The trouble,\" said he, \"is that your\nsystem of government is wrong.\"\n\n\"What?\" exclaimed the king. \"I am the government. Am I wrong?\"\n\n\"Yes, you should have another government.\"\n\n\"You mean that I should hire an assassin to kill me, so that my son\nshould be the government?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Gud, \"I mean that you should have a different form of\ngovernment.\"\n\n\"I never heard of a different form of government!\" declared the king,\nthrowing his cigar on the rug in his excitement.\n\n\"Then I will explain it to you. What you need is a democracy. Your\npeople want it for they have an innate sense of it already. They believe\nin the majority rule. Because the majority of them are thieves they want\nstealing legalized. In fact, to make law against stealing is, under the\ncircumstances, very demoralizing, for it breeds contempt for law.\"\n\n\"By my crown!\" exclaimed the king, slapping his knee. \"You are right. If\nyou will just show me how, we will make this democracy.\"\n\nSo Gud showed the king how to write a declaration of independence and\nframe a democratic constitution, and then they staged abdication and the\nking placed his crown in the historical museum.\n\nWhen the king had done that, Gud said: \"Now have a bill passed making\nstealing legal so that the law will agree with the habits and customs of\nthe majority.\"\n\nWhen the king had done that also Gud said: \"You are more popular than\never, so start a secret society to be called 'The Ancient Order of\nHonest Thieves.' Write the constitution and by-laws yourself and make\nevery citizen of your democracy eligible to membership, providing he can\nshow proof that he has stolen something; but make it a first principle\nof honor that a thief shall not steal from a fellow thief.\"\n\nThe king was delighted, and straightway did all which Gud demanded.\n\nThe society was so popular that not only the thieves joined, but the\nhonest men became thieves and joined also. Everything went well until\nall the citizens of the democracy but one had become members of the\n\"Ancient Order of Honest Thieves.\" Everything that this man had\npossessed had been stolen, and he was naked and hungry, so finally he\ndecided to join the society. There being no one else left to steal from,\nthe last honest man stole the jeweled slippers that the king had given\nunto Gud.\n\nAt this Gud became so angry that he declared himself emperor, and hanged\nthe king on a rainy day.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXIII\n\n\nWhen Gud came upon the stupid girl she was sitting under an apple tree\nand weeping bitterly.\n\n\"Why do you weep?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"I weep,\" replied the girl, \"because I am in disgrace.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see, you are a fallen woman. Why don't you commit suicide?\"\n\n\"But I am too young to die,\" moaned the girl, \"and besides I haven't\nfallen yet. I am weeping because they tell me I am immodest.\"\n\n\"But why do they say you are immodest?\" asked Gud, as he picked up a\ngreen apple and tasted it to see if it were ripe.\n\n\"Because,\" explained the girl, \"I made me a bathing pettitcoat and went\nbathing in the pool. Someone had told me how to make it and how to sew\nlead sinkers in the hem of it. But I could only remember that it was\nsomething about fishing tackle, and I sewed corks in the hem instead of\nsinkers, and so when I went bathing, the skirt floated on the top of the\nwater.\"\n\nGud stroked his beard thoughtfully. \"I can put out the eyes of the\nfishes,\" he suggested.\n\n\"But they would still remember.\"\n\n\"I can kill the fishes,\" offered Gud.\n\n\"But the fishes might have souls, and besides, it wasn't so much what\nthe fishes saw or even what the people thought the fishes saw.\"\n\n\"What was it?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"The trouble was that my bathing suit was not in style.\"\n\n\"Oh, if that is all I will change the style.... There, go to the drug\nstore and watch the clerks marking up the price of corks.\"\n\n\"Wonderful,\" cried the girl, \"me to be the leader of styles--But I wore\nthis week's styles last week--they will say I was too forward and\ntherefore immodest.\"\n\nGud reached in a pocket of his robe and took out a patent calendar. This\nhe turned back two weeks. \"You should worry,\" he said, \"I have made it\nweek before last. You did not appear in the new-style bathing suit until\nnext week. Does that fix everything?\"\n\n\"Y-e-s,\" stuttered the girl doubtfully. \"But what about the fishes?\"\n\n\"I turned them back too,\" explained Gud. \"But in all fairness, I ought\nto warn you about the lobsters. You see they go backwards naturally, and\nwhen I reversed the order of things just now I noticed that the lobsters\nwent ahead two weeks--it is all a matter of relativity, you see.\"\n\n\"No, I don't see,\" blubbered the girl, \"for I am very stupid,\" and she\nbegan to weep again.\n\n\"Why are you weeping again?\" demanded Gud.\n\n\"Because I failed in my examination. I got everything wrong-wise and\nupse-turvy.\"\n\n\"Don't worry,\" said Gud, \"I have changed all things, so that what you\nanswered in your examination is the truth and has always been the truth\nand all contrary belief are false and always have been false.\"\n\n\"Thank you so kindly,\" smiled the girl, \"but there is just one thing\nmore. I can't understand the difference between an equilateral triangle\nand an isosceles triangle--and I just hate all triangles.\"\n\n\"Forget them,\" consoled Gud, \"for I have destroyed all triangles.\"\n\nJust then the girl noticed in alarm that the apples which had been on\nthe ground were dropping up and alighting on the tree.\n\n\"Be not alarmed,\" said Gud, \"I only changed the law of gravitation as it\napplies to apples.\"\n\nAnd now they saw a procession coming through the orchard headed by the\nPresident of the Academy to proclaim the stupid girl as a virgin\nprophetess who had revealed to that world many great truths that had\nbeen hidden from the minds of the old masters. And when the old masters\nsaw the apples that lay about the girl dropping up, one by one, to the\ntree above her, they became filled with holy zeal and abject worship and\nbowed down humbly before her and cried:\n\n\"Hail, hail, prophetess, for the end of the world cometh, and thou, in\nthy holy wisdom, must tell us what we should do to be saved.\"\n\n\"Oh, forget it till next week,\" said the girl, \"and then you will see me\nin my new-style bathing suit.\"\n\nAnd Gud departed from that place in great sorrow, for once again he saw\na world confounded and worshiping a fool.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXIV\n\n\nAbout a decade later, Fidu came running up to Gud. For a moment he was\ntoo excited to speak and could only bark, but when he again found his\narticulation the Underdog said: \"Oh master, come quick, for there is a\npoor beggar sitting over there on the steps of the almshouse and holding\nout his hat for alms; but few give to him and he is weak and starving.\"\n\nGud followed Fidu and came to the beggar who was poor and wretched\nindeed. And Gud said to him: \"I will not reveal my lack of intelligence\nby dropping coins into your hat, for I know as well as you do that\nindiscriminate charity does not alleviate poverty. So throw your coppers\ninto the gutter and put your hat on your head, while we discuss the\ncause of your impecunity.\"\n\nThe beggar discarded his few coins and placed his hat on his head.\n\n\"Now,\" began Gud, \"let us consider your situation intelligently. There\nis usually some relation between cause and effect. The effect in your\ncase is poverty complicated by charity. I could destroy the effect by a\nmiracle and make you rich, but I have tried tampering with the law of\ncause and effect, and I find it dangerous business. It is best to change\nthe cause and let the law change the effect.\n\n\"Quite right you are, kind sir,\" agreed the beggar.\n\n\"What was the cause of your poverty?\" asked Gud. \"Was it indolence, or\ndrink, or--\"\n\n\"No, no,\" interrupted the beggar, \"none of those common things. My\npoverty was caused by the ruin of my profession.\"\n\n\"What was your profession?\" demanded Gud.\n\nThe beggar straightened up as proudly as he could and said: \"I was a\nnovelist!\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gud, \"Go on.\"\n\n\"And my profession has been blasted and ruined utterly.\"\n\n\"And how did that happen?\"\n\n\"I do not know how it happened,\" replied the beggar, a baffled look\ncoming into his eyes; \"worse yet not even the critics know--but it\nhappened--it happened--the impossible happened.\"\n\n\"Come, come,\" called Gud, shaking him by the shoulder, \"you are\nbabbling, speak up, what happened?\"\n\nThe beggar looked up at Gud, a glint of horror in his eyes, and murmured\nslowly: \"Someone destroyed the eternal triangle.... There can never be\nany more novels, ... nor plays ... nor movies ... nor realism ... nor\nromance ... nor royalties ... nor dinners at the Alhambra with\nGwendolyn ... nor.... Please sir, just a copper, I am old and lame.\"\n\n\"Cheer up,\" encouraged Gud, \"I feel it my duty to help you. Was this\ntriangle that seemed to have been the life of your business equilateral\nor isosceles?\"\n\n\"Neither,\" replied the beggar, now with the bearing of a true novelist,\n\"it was the eternal triangle which is a plot of a certain very literary\nrelation of the sexes, in which three individuals form the angles.\"\n\n\"Why just three?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"It seems that three sell best,\" said the novelist. \"Two do not interest\nthe reader, and four, five or more tire him; three characters sell best,\nwhich is why such a triangle is called eternal.\"\n\n\"I understand that three elements make the best triangle--and one\nshouldn't fool too much with mathematics. But what about these sexes?\"\n\n\"It makes no difference,\" replied the beggar, \"how the sexes are\narranged, just so both sexes are represented on the triangle.\"\n\n\"Both sexes,\" repeated Gud--\"then you only have two sexes?\"\n\n\"Certainly, three characters of two sexes form the eternal triangle, any\nway you arrange them; isn't that perfectly simple?\"\n\n\"It is simple, more simple than perfect. Now, pick up the coins you cast\ninto the gutter and buy yourself a pencil and a pad and start to work.\nYou will find eternal triangles have become as plentiful as lies, and\nwhat is more important, perfectly moral.\"\n\n\"You speak,\" replied the novelist, \"with authority, and my understanding\nwill come, no doubt, with inspiration. I thank you sir, especially for\nyour hopeful words about the possibilities of fiction becoming moral.\nYou can not realize how the necessity of dealing with immorality wears\non the conscience of a novelist; nor how those hypocritical critics\nrevile us by insinuating that we write of immorality because we live it.\nWe write of it, sir, because the editors and the public demand it, and\nfor no other reason. If immorality in fiction were not profitable we\nwould not write at all. Again I thank you sir, and good day to you.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXV\n\n\nAs Gud and the Underdog walked on their way, they passed through a dark\nvalley where they could hardly see in the murkiness to keep their feet\non the Impossible Curve, and so they proceeded slowly with eyes and ears\nalert.\n\nPresently Fidu stopped and cocked his ear, for his sense of hearing was\nmore acute than his master's. When Gud refused to stop, Fidu ran on for\na time, and then he stopped again and listened, and this time Gud\nstopped and listened also, whereupon he heard from afar, the sound as of\na heavy clanking chain.\n\nAs they traveled on again the sound grew louder and was mingled with\nmumbling and smothered curses. It was Fidu, as usual, who ran ahead and\nfound the object from whence came the mumblings of smothered curses.\n\nWhen Gud drew near he saw a poor being chained to a great rock. Gud\ntapped the rock with his staff and discovered from its adamantine nature\nthat it was the Rock of Conservatism. But he could not identify the\nbeing who was so securely chained, thereto.\n\n\"Who are you,\" demanded Gud, \"and why are you chained up here in this\nbrutal fashion?\"\n\nThe being only answered with more mumbled cursings.\n\n\"If he cannot state his case,\" said Gud, \"why should he expect me to\nfree him?\"\n\n\"But master, there is a smaller chain across his mouth.\"\n\n\"So there is,\" observed Gud, and he reached over and severed that\nsmaller chain.\n\n\"I thank you,\" said the prisoner, \"but there is little more that I can\nsay, for I am still chained to the Rock of Conservatism.\"\n\n\"Oh, very well,\" replied Gud, as he severed the great chain also. \"And\nnow please tell me who you are and why you are bound here?\"\n\nThe creature arose and stretched his aching bones. \"I am Free Speech,\"\nsaid he, \"and who are you?\"\n\nAnd Gud replied: \"I am Gud.\"\n\n\"I never heard of you and what is your business?\"\n\n\"I am retired. What is your business?\"\n\n\"My business was talking too much until they bound me. But now that I am\nagain free, I intend to go on talking and saying just what I please. For\none thing I do not like that ridiculous old bath robe you wear. If you\ndon't care for pants, why wear anything?\"\n\n\"Have you always been in the business of talking too much?\" inquired\nGud.\n\n\"No,\" replied Free Speech, \"I was once a school master but I got into\ndifficulty. I had a private school and both the Just and the Unjust sent\ntheir children to my school. The Just believed that the world was flat\nand the Unjust believed that the world was round--\"\n\n\"Which was it?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Keep still and let me talk. The Just wanted me to teach their children\nthat the world was flat and the Unjust wanted me to teach their children\nthat the world was round. So I organized two classes in geography and\ntaught the children of the Just that the world was flat and the children\nof the Unjust that the world was round. The Just had me arrested, but I\nescaped and went into the business of talking too much and saying what I\npleased and asking all the questions I wanted to; and while I am\ngrateful to you for your releasing me, all you did was your duty, and I\ndon't feel there is any privilege of back talk coming to you; and yet\nyou look like you were pretty wise, and there are one or two things that\nI don't know yet. For instance, has a ghost a soul or is he a soul?\nWell, I see you don't know, but maybe you can tell me whether sins are\nwashed away by death-bed repentance, though I really don't care, for it\nis not important. But I would like to know if faith will remove\nmountains. I don't believe it will for when I was a small lad I went to\nlive with my grandmother. There was an ugly mountain back of her house\nand grandmother decided to remove it by faith and she prayed all one\nevening that the mountain be moved that night. The next morning she woke\nup and looked out the kitchen window and said: 'I knew that old mountain\nwould still be there.' Which reminds me of a fellow I knew who was a\nfaith healer by profession, and mighty successful, too, and went all up\nand down the land healing by faith and getting paid handsomely for it.\nBut his wife at home was an invalid: I asked her why her husband did not\nheal her and she said, 'I lack faith in him.'\n\n\"Do you know why they call sleep innocent, considering the kind of\ndreams people have? Or why blood is thicker than water? Or what there is\nabout a sphinx that makes people think it knows the answer to riddles?\nOr why a greased egg won't hatch? Or whether a man in hot water is more\nuncomfortable than a round peg in a square hole?\"\n\n\"No,\" replied Gud, \"I do not know any of these things and I am sorry I\nunbound you.\"\n\n\"I knew you would be,\" cried Free Speech, \"I could tell by your old gray\ngown and those antiquated whiskers that you were a conservative and a\nhide-bound Puritan, but I tell you right now that you can't stop me\ntalking by tying me up, and that it won't do you any good if you do. And\nthat Underdog of yours is no better than you are. The Underdog must be\neducated by me, though he is usually so stupid that he chases after the\ncopycat instead of listening to me talk, and so I don't really care as\nmuch what becomes of him as I pretend I do--and did you ever hear the\nstory about--\"\n\nBut Gud clapped his hand over the mouth of Free Speech and called:\n\"Quick, Fidu, fetch me the chain.\"\n\nAs Fidu and Gud marched on their way it was to the sound of muttering\nand mumbled curses and the clanking of a heavy chain.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXVI\n\n\n\"Master,\" remarked Fidu, \"I have long suspected that in following this\nImpossible Curve we are not getting anywhere.\"\n\n\"What difference does it make?\" replied Gud, \"we are only walking for\nrecreation.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes, I know all that, but still, I do not like to walk in a circle,\nbecause it makes me dizzy.\"\n\n\"But we can't be walking in a circle,\" argued Gud, \"because a circle is\nquite probable and this curve is impossible.\"\n\n\"That may also be true, Master, but nevertheless we just passed that\nworld again where you made a virgin prophetess out of a stupid girl, and\nI know that building ahead of us is the almshouse on the steps of which\nwe found the poor old beggar whom you made so happy.\"\n\nGud looked ahead. \"Yes, Fidu,\" he agreed, \"you are right; and perhaps we\nshall meet him again, for he will not be a beggar now but a rich and\nprosperous novelist.\"\n\nBut alas! when they came up to the almshouse they found the same old\nbeggar looking more disreputable than before.\n\nGud reached over and shook him, but he did not stir nor answer. Gud\nturned quickly away and called Fidu, and they passed on.\n\n\"Why did he not speak?\" asked Fidu.\n\n\"Because,\" answered Gud, \"the poor old fellow was dead, apparently of\nstarvation.\"\n\n\"And you thought that he would be rich and prosperous.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, so I did. I gave him the chance of his life, too, by making\ntriangles with three sexes and therefore perfectly moral--it just goes\nto show how useless it is to attempt to salvage these mendicants.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXVII\n\n\nAs Gud was knocking about among the stars he saw yet another world\nspinning idly on its axis as it floated aimlessly in the nebulous ether.\nPrompted by curiosity he drew nearer and observed that the ether was\nfull of ghosts. Most of them seemed to be observing the conduct of the\nbeings in the material world below, and Gud rightly judged them to be\ndemised of that reality and amusing themselves by watching the doings of\ntheir descendants.\n\nBut there was one ghost of an old woman that seemed sore troubled and\nfull of yearning for the beings of the world below, as if she would\ncommunicate to them some message and could find not the means of\ncommunication. Filled with compassion, Gud approached the ghost of the\nold woman and asked if he might be of service to her. But she merely\ngazed up at him out of troubled eyes and did not speak. Again Gud\naddressed her and again she answered not; and Gud concluded that she was\na very dumb ghost.\n\nThereupon Gud imagined a powerful medicine and poured it out in a\nmake-believe goblet and gave to the dumb ghost to drink thereof. She\naccepted it gratefully and drank copiously; and immediately her mouth\nopened so that she spake volubly.\n\nWhen she had done with her thanks for the miracle, Gud asked her why she\nwas troubled and why she looked upon the world below with such distress.\n\n\"It is quite a long story,\" she began, as she seated herself upon the\nRock of Ages.\n\nThis being the only rock in the neighborhood, Gud was obliged to create\nanother rock so that he could be seated also, for the story promised\nwell.\n\nWhen Gud was comfortably seated, the old ghost of the old woman resumed:\n\"I was the first lady of the land, that you see below us, and the mother\nof the first family on that poor deluded world. I had a very dear\nhusband who was the father of my children--of that there was no doubt,\nfor he was never jealous. But I was not his first wife, for he had been\nmarried before to a most loquacious creature who had talked herself into\nhysterics and died.\n\n\"My husband loved me greatly and in order to escape the sound of women's\nvoices, he brought me to this world which you now see so full of our\ndescendants.\n\n\"Then it was only inhabited by savage beasts and we were the first\npeople who trod its wild shores. We settled down in a beautiful cave and\nmade a happy home there and numerous children came to bless our union.\n\n\"My husband loved these children and made many toys to amuse them, for\nhe was clever with his jack-knife. One day he came home with a great\nchunk of dry, soft wood and began to whittle on it, while all the\nchildren stood about and wondered what he was making.\n\n\"Day by day they watched him as he shaped and carved the wood until he\nhad made a most comical and grotesque object with grinning teeth, and\neyes which he blackened with charcoal. The children were afraid of this\nugly, carved wooden creature, and yet they loved it because their father\nhad made it for them. So when it was all finished, he perched it up on\nthe mantle over the horsehair sofa and told the children not to touch\nit.\n\n\"When they asked him what it was he said that it was Bahgung; and he\ntold them that while they slept Bahgung stole out of the cave and went\non long expeditions and had great adventures. The children loved these\ntales of the doings of Bahgung, and so my husband made many tales of\nBahgung and his adventures.\n\n\"I wanted to warn him that the children could not discriminate between\nfact and fiction and might believe these tales, but I was dumb and could\nsay nothing.\n\n\"When my dear husband saw the worry in my eyes he guessed the cause and\nsaid: 'When they get older, I will explain to them that these are only\nfairy tales and they will forget them.'\n\n\"But he did not explain, and went on making up more and yet more tales\nof the might and prowess of the wooden carved Bahgung. If the children\nwere naughty, he told them that Bahgung would punish them, and when they\nwere good he told them that Bahgung would award them.\n\n\"One day when I came quietly into the cave I saw my little girl kneeling\nbefore Bahgung, and she was talking to him and beseeching him to cause\nher brother give back a pretty shell which he had taken from her. I was\nworried at all this, but being dumb I could say nothing.\n\n\"It was a few days later that my dear husband was eaten by a crocodile\nwhile he was fishing. There being no remains we had a modest private\nfuneral, none but the family being present; and I took up as best I\ncould the duties of providing for my children.\n\n\"After their father's death the children talked still more to Bahgung\nand told him all their troubles. They seemed to love the idol and yet to\nfear him, and to believe he was alive though they could see him before\nthem as only a carved wooden thing.\n\n\"So much they worshiped Bahgung that I feared to destroy him, and I\ntherefore allowed the wooden idol to stand on the mantle over the old\nhorsehair sofa that we had brought with us from another world.\n\n\"I still supposed that when the children grew up they would forget this\nmiserable idol of carven wood. But alas! they did not. I did not dare\ndestroy the idol, for the children adored it more than they did me who\nhad brought them into the world of my own flesh and blood. I wanted also\nto explain to them that Bahgung was only a wooden idol and as dead and\nworthless as any rotten stick, but being dumb I could say nothing.\n\n\"When my children left home, they would come back on pilgrimages, and to\nme it seemed that they came back more to worship Bahgung than to see\ntheir old mother. So in my desire to see my children the more I\npermitted Bahgung to stand on the mantle above the horsehair sofa in the\ncave.\n\n\"One day my oldest son and oldest daughter came at the same time to\nvisit me and to worship Bahgung. It was then that my son proposed that\nhe take Bahgung to his own cave. Being dumb I could say nothing, but my\ndaughter objected.\n\n\"'Very well,' said my son, 'leave the old thing here. I will make a\nbetter one of my own.'\n\n\"The next time I visited my son, I found that he, too, had made a\ncreature, which he modeled out of clay, even more cleverly than his\nfather had carved. And this creature was sitting on a little pedestal in\na small cave of its own and my son was teaching my grandchildren to\nbring it offerings and make worship and prayers to it--all of which I\nthought most silly.\n\n\"Finally I died and my numerous descendants gave me a grand funeral and\nparaded Bahgung at the head of the procession and all their lesser idols\nafter him. But being dumb and dead also, I could say nothing.\n\n\"So that was how it all started, the idol worship, in that world you see\nbelow us, and for thousands on thousands of generations those poor\ndeluded descendants of mine made and worshiped idols of wood and clay\nand stone and metal, while I hovered over them, knowing all the while\nhow the delusion started in my own dear husband's innocent desire to\namuse our children with a home-made toy.\"\n\n\"That is a very interesting account of the origin of idol worship,\"\ncommented Gud, \"I never heard so plausible a theory.\"\n\n\"Theory!\" repeated the old ghost, \"but it isn't theory, I would have you\nknow. It is plain fact--did I not see the whole beginning of this folly\nwith my own eyes, and did I not heft that old carcass of rotten wood\nwith my own hands?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" admitted Gud, \"still--\" and he peered searchingly through the\nhaze at the world below--\"still, I do not see them worshiping idols down\nthere now? The only idols I can see are in the museums along with the\nstuffed mermaids and two-headed serpents.\"\n\n\"Of course,\" replied the old ghost, \"they have long since grown too\nsophisticated to worship material idols of wood and stone, but they have\nidols just the same, which they call 'gods not made with hands'.\"\n\nGud felt a little uncomfortable at this remark, but before he could\nthink of anything to say the ghost of the first woman of that land which\nlay below them, continued. \"I will tell you how that came about, too,\nfor I was hovering near at the time. There was a lazy philosopher. He\nhad no idol except a worm-eaten old wooden one which some one had given\nhim, and which he kept in a hovel. One day the shanty caught fire from a\ndefective flue and his idol was burned and there was no insurance. The\nphilosopher was too lazy to make another and too poor to buy one, for\nthe idol makers by that time were charging high prices. So the lazy fool\nsat out on a stump and dreamed how to get another idol without working\nto pay for it.\n\n\"His thoughts, as I read them at that time, ran something like this: 'An\nidol is a material creature of wood or stone or metal, which is used by\nthe worshiper as a material nucleus to concentrate the attention and\nstimulate the imagination. The imagination constructs an immaterial\nbeing or god to dwell within the material idol. As this imagined god is\nthe creature that answers supplications and heaps curses on one's\nenemies, therefore the benefits to the worshiper must come from the use\nof his own imagination. Now it would be more difficult to imagine a god\nwithout having the idol to start from, hence if one could achieve it he\nwould use his imagination more and thereby get a better god.'\n\n\"So the philosopher set his imagination to work and imagined himself a\ngod without going to the expense of buying an idol. He was so well\npleased with his wholly imagined god that he went out and proclaimed to\nothers, and soon he had a host of lazy chaps who agreed to pay him for\nthe privilege of worshiping his imagined god and thus saving the cost of\nidols.\n\n\"The scheme was so lucrative that other philosophers set up other\npsychic idols, and that is what they have down there now. If you doubt\nme, look over there in the left corner of the nearer hemisphere and you\ncan see the smoke of a war. Those people are fighting, trying to make\neach other accept their particular psychic idols.\"\n\nGud looked and saw the war, that it was great and that there was much\nsmoke; and even a faint stench was wafted up to him of the flesh of\nunbelievers being burned by the faithful.\n\nGud looked also toward another quarter and saw other smoke. \"And what is\nthat war?\" he asked, pointing it out.\n\n\"That,\" replied the old ghost, \"is a war between two groups who both\nwant to worship the same psychic idol, but one group wishes to worship\nit in silence and meditation and the other wishes to worship it with\ndrums and cymbals.\"\n\nGud sniffed the ether from that direction and found that it also smelled\nof burning flesh. He did not like the odor and he arose as if to go\ntoward the unhappy world.\n\n\"Where are you going?\" asked the old ghost.\n\n\"I was just wondering, whether, if those unhappy people had a real god\nwould they not quit all this war and devote their time to harmonious\nworship?\"\n\n\"Don't be a fool,\" laughed the old ghost, \"if you go down there as a\nstranger preaching some new god they will pour oil on you and set you up\nto light the town for a night.\"\n\nGud sighed and sat down on the stone again. \"I suppose they would,\" he\nadmitted, \"and I suppose now that I have given you back your power of\ncommunication, you will be wanting to go down there and find a good\nmedium and preach atheism through spirit messages, since you know what a\nfraud all their gods are.\"\n\n\"I shall do nothing of the sort,\" declared the old ghost. \"Of course, if\nI could have had a great doctor like you to have restored my speech\nwhile I was yet alive, then I could have explained to my children just\nhow it all started, and this folly would have never been. But it is too\nlate now.\"\n\n\"What are you going to do?\" asked Gud, for he saw that the old ghost had\narisen with a very determined look on her face as if she surely meant to\ndo something.\n\n\"I am going down there,\" she asserted; \"but I shall not bother with any\nsilly mediums. I am going to materialize as a woman of great wealth and\nbeauty, and I am going to captivate and hire the best sculptors and\narchitects in the land, and under my direction they will build an\nenormous fine temple and set up a great idol, the splendor of which that\nmiserable world has never seen--\"\n\n\"Just what kind of an idol?\" interrupted Gud.\n\n\"An image of Bahgung, of course,\" cried the old ghost. \"What else would\nyou suppose? Wasn't he the first of all their idols, and the best of all\nthem?\"\n\n\"But--\" said the astonished Gud, \"I thought that you did not believe in\nthat idol and disliked to see your children worship him.\"\n\n\"So I did, in a way, because it was only a crude, wooden carving that my\nsilly husband had made with his jack-knife--but Bahgung was a great god\nfor all of that. Why, didn't he heal my youngest child of that terrible\nfever when I prayed to him that fearful night? And didn't he tear the\ngreat stone from the cliff that rolled down and killed the tiger? And\ndidn't he--\"\n\nBut Gud heard no more, for he was racing madly through the ether and\npinching himself to see if he were real.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXVIII\n\n\nHaving come a long way and being footsore and weary Gud felt that it was\ntime to retire. But he possessed no sleeping garments. So he caused a\ndeep sleep to fall upon the Underdog and then Gud lay down and slept in\nhis waking garments.\n\nBut the Underdog dreamed a dream and when Gud heard what the Underdog\nwas dreaming, he arose and drew his long knife and cut off the\nUnderdog's ear so that the beast could not hear what he was\ndreaming--for it was the kind of dream that Underdogs should never hear,\nand, if it is not deleted by the censor, this is what it was:\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXIX\n\n\n    Thirteen respectable spinsters\n      Of the respectable town of Murch,\n    Gave a very respectable party\n      For their eminent orthodox church.\n\n    On a green and grassy pasture\n      By the side of the River Runch\n    They sat with the Reverend Quondam\n      And partook of a dainty lunch.\n\n    None could have said they were pretty,\n      Not even those in the \"know,\"\n    Yet no one denied in the city\n      That their names were as white as the snow.\n\n    And just at the moment of eating\n      The breast of a tender chicken,\n    The Reverend Quondam observed\n      The grey skies overhead thicken.\n\n    Within a neighboring farmhouse\n      He betook his respectable form,\n    Accompanied by all of the ladies\n      In deadly fear of the storm.\n\n    Then lightning came and the thunder\n      Like the crashing of seventeen earths,\n    And in that respectable party\n      Occurred three premature births.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXX\n\n\nThe next morning when the Underdog awoke he had an imagination that a\nfly had alighted on the ear which Gud had cut off. The Underdog grieved\nbecause he could not flop the ear which he no longer possessed and so\ndislodge the fly that he imagined had alighted thereon.\n\nThis made bad blood at the breakfast table so that the Underdog growled\nungratefully over the bone of contention which Gud threw him.\n\nAll that day they walked with their eyes averted and said nothing until\nthey came to the place where the birds of faith roosted on the waves of\nthe wireless; and then they both rejoiced, for here was good game,\neasily ensnared because it had faith and trust.\n\nSo Gud spoke comradely to the Underdog and the Underdog wagged\ncordially. Gud built a snare out of weeping willow twigs, and the\nUnderdog ran round the birds and barked the birches. Presently an old\nbird that was steadfast in the faith walked into the snare and Gud\nreached out his hand and took the bird, and it perched upon his shoulder\nand told him why love grows cold. This made Gud very happy, for he had\nalways wanted to know.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXI\n\n\n    The mists that whirl in greater mists\n      Around the cliffs of space\n    Leave little drops of glistening water\n      Upon His wrinkled face.\n\n    Have you heard Him, as walking through\n      The valleys of the night\n    He paces ever back and forth,\n      Silent, old and white?\n\n    Upon some jagged piece of dust\n      As high as night is high\n    He watches all the tiny worlds\n      Go spinning down the sky.\n\n    Around Him are the burning stars\n      That toss like little ships\n    And winds blow out of dim unknowns\n      Across His very lips.\n\n    Have you heard Him amid the silence,\n      Vast as a silken cloud,\n    Lifting His arms with jewelled pendants,\n      Cloaked in a heavy shroud?\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXII\n\n\nAs Gud and Fidu journeyed on they came to a rippling rivulet and saw two\nwomen who were bathing in the laughing water. Gud was not astonished at\nwhat he saw because Gud sees all things, and familiarity breeds\ncontempt. Neither were the women alarmed, because they were busy talking\nand did not see Gud.\n\n\"I am sick of love,\" one woman said.\n\nWhereupon the other woman said: \"My husband understands me.\"\n\nJust then the Underdog came up panting and athirst and started to lap of\nthe laughing waters of the rippling rivulet. Gud thrust his hand out and\njerked the poor beast away. Alas, too late! Fidu had drunk of the\nbewitched water and when the moon changed its name and a meteor fell\ninto a fit of despondency; the Underdog went mad and frothed at the\nmouth and bit the hand that fed him, which was the right hand of Gud.\n\nGud made a tourniquet out of a miser's heart-strings, so that the\ninfection did not pass above the elbow; and he applied leeches to the\nwound and also an ointment of soothing words so that the pain abated.\nBut the poison of falsehood was so potent that Gud found his right hand\nhad become a deceitful hand and could not write the truth. So Gud\nexchanged his right hand for his left hand, which was very easy to do\nsince he was in the Nth dimension and outside the limitations of\nthree-dimensional space.\n\nWhen Fidu, the Underdog, went mad he lost his reason. Gud did not note\nthis at the time because of his own affliction. But after his wound had\nhealed so that it ceased to hurt anything but his conscience, Gud\nobserved, as they walked along, that Fidu had lost his reason. The poor\ndog walking along there without his reason looked so unreasonable that\nGud's heart was touched with compassion and he said: \"Fidu, it grieves\nme to see you without a reason. Here, take mine.\"\n\nFidu looked up gratefully out of his sad, mad eyes as Gud handed him his\nreason. Glad to have a reason again Fidu seized it in his mouth and ran\noff, frisking and twisting and wanting to bark, which he could not do\nbecause he was carrying Gud's reason in his mouth. So he ran ahead and\ncame to a place where the curve crossed over a deep, dark stream.\nGlancing down into the mirror-like surface of the water, the Underdog\nsaw his reflection. He did not think the reflection was another dog with\nanother reason in his mouth--for Fidu had his reason in his mouth and\nwas still mad in his eyes. When he saw his reflection in the water, he\nthought it was a porcupine or a civet cat or some other unapproachable\ncreature, and so he barked; and in doing so he let Gud's reason fall\ninto the water. Down, down sank the reason of Gud into the dark, deep\nwater, for it was a very weighty reason.\n\nFidu did not attempt to dive after it, but the poor, mad dog just stood\nthere and let it sink out of sight into the deep dark water.\n\nWhen Gud came up he, too, was without his reason and he thought Fidu,\nstanding forlornly on the bridge, was an evil genius. When the mad dog\nran on into the gloomy wilderness that was beyond the stream, the mad\nGud followed after him and became lost in the wildness of the\nwilderness.\n\nAs Gud wandered on amid the gloomy shadows, the void in his mind, where\nhis reason had been, became filled with many strange illusions, and he\ndiscovered that he could now believe many things that he had not\npreviously been able to believe because they had been unreasonable.\nFaith in things unseen grew within him. The fourth dimension and the\nsquared circle no longer annoyed him. He found that chimeras were very\nreal and also wyverns, and that metaphysical hypotheses were as solid\nsubstance and as proven facts.\n\nGud now understood for the first time in his life that he was Gud and at\nthe same time he was a holy ghost, and that he was also his own father.\nThis last bit of unreasonable comprehension especially relieved Gud. He\nwas sorry he had not accepted it sooner, for because of it he had never\nreally written his autobiography. When he had started to write, he began\nby describing his father as being in existence before his own birth, and\nyet Gud had realized that such could not be, as he and his father were\none and the same being. The situation had confused Gud's reason, but now\nwith his reason gone it was all very clear.\n\nThere were also many other things which Gud had been unable to accept\nwith his reason, but which now, with no appeal to reason, he gladly\nembraced, and so reveled joyously in his growing faith. The\ntransfiguration of souls particularly entranced him, and he spent many\nhappy hours, as he walked along amid the gloomy shadows of the wildness\nof the wilderness, in picking out favorite animals to have been and to\nbe. He rather favored having been a quacking ornithorhynchus and going\nto be a ring-straked giraffe; and yet the claims of the groundhog, which\nsleeps half its life away, also appealed to Gud, because he had a long\ntime to live. Having considered these and many others, Gud decided to\nhave been all the unattractive animals in the past and to be all the\nnice ones in the future. After all, he had plenty of past and future and\nthere was no occasion for abbreviating the list.\n\nWith his reason gone Gud also accepted polytheism as being quite\ncompatible with monotheism. He no longer found it objectionable to be\nthe only god and yet have a lot of assistant gods, for he saw that this\nwould relieve him of a great deal of labor.\n\nAnd thus it came about that through the loss of his reason many\nirrational things which he had previously disputed and disbelieved were\nnow lucid and believable. So gratified was Gud as he realized the\nmagnitude of his growing faith that he gave a great shout of joy.\n\nThe shout echoed through the wildness of the wilderness, and the echo\ncame back to Gud; and Gud thought it was a lion's roar.\n\nThe mad Underdog also heard Gud's shout and the echo of Gud's shout, and\nhe thought the shout was the blast of a war trumpet, and that the echo\nwas the noise of the celebration of peace.\n\nBut Gud did not know what Fidu thought, for Gud was mad. If Gud could\nonly have looked sanely into Fidu's insane eyes, a deal of trouble might\nhave been avoided. But he could not; and Gud thought the echo of his\nshout was the roar of a mighty, wicked lion, and he thought Fidu thought\nso, too. And maybe he did.\n\nThen the lion's roar roared again. But Gud was not afraid, for he had\nno reason to be afraid. Filled with unreasonable faith and valor, Gud\nseized his staff and charged into the jungle after the lion's roar. And\nFidu, the Underdog, followed after Gud, for why shouldn't a mad dog\nfollow a mad master?\n\nThe lion's roar roared yet again. The hair on the mad Underdog's back\nbristled. The dark, dank jungle trembled with the lion's roar. The\nmonkeys in the tree tops chattered with excitement, for it looked to\nthem as if there was going to be a fight.\n\nGud charged through the underbrush brandishing his staff and came face\nto face with the lion's roar. And Gud struck viciously and valorously at\nthe lion's roar. But it was only the illusion of a lion's roar and Gud's\nstaff went through the incorporeal stuff like a whip lash through mercy.\n\nThen the lion's roar roared once again, and this time so mightily that\nGud died of fright.\n\nWhen the Underdog came upon the scene, the roar, ashamed of its\nunreality, had slunk off into the wilderness, and all was quiet in the\ngloom and the shadow of death.\n\nFidu sniffed pathetically at his dead master, and then, filled with\nremorse, he whined piteously, for now that his master was dead the poor\nmad dog regretted that he had lost Gud's reason.\n\nFor a long time Fidu sat in silent vigil by his dead master's side,\ngrieving as hard as a poor mad dog could. But at last he arose and\nlicked the right hand of Gud, which he had bitten in his madness, and\ngazed again into his dead master's face.\n\nThen, mad though he was, Fidu turned and trotted with unerring canine\ninstinct back to the bridge across the stream. Reaching the bridge he\nfaltered not but dove off bravely into the deep, dark water and\nretrieved Gud's reason.\n\nAll wet and cold, he came back to his poor master's side and laid Gud's\nreason down beside Gud's head and then barked loudly.\n\nBut Gud did not hear the bark of the Underdog, for Gud was dead. So it\nmust be that the hero of this tale, in what shall come hereafter, is\nonly the Ghost of Gud.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXIII\n\n\n    The mists that whirl in greater mists\n      Around the cliffs of space\n    Leave little drops of water\n      Upon his wrinkled face.\n\n    Have you heard Him, as walking through\n      The valleys of the night\n    He paces ever back and forth,\n      Silent, old and white?\n\n    Upon some jagged piece of dust\n      As high as night is high,\n    He watches all the tiny worlds\n      Go spinning down the sky.\n\n    Around Him are the burning stars\n      That toss like little ships,\n    The winds blow out of dim unknowns\n      Across his very lips.\n\n    Have you seen Him amid the silence,\n      Vast as a silken cloud,\n    Lifting His arms with jeweled pendants\n      Cloaked in a heavy shroud?\n\n    When sweeping through the open night\n      Great pinions touch the face;\n    Vast wings that fold the face of God\n      Against the breast of space;\n\n    We hear the hills that all one's life\n      Were silent as the sun,\n    Break forth in songs that waited there\n      Since life had first begun.\n\n    We reach out for the fluttering hand\n      And finding it is gone,\n    We know the stars that shake the sky\n      Are only old and wan.\n\n    We stand and listen and we know\n      That rising through the night\n    Pass all the hosts of all the years\n      Death ever hides from sight.\n\n    So much and yet so little then\n      With thrust that follows thrust....\n    The paltry things of paltry life\n      Shrink swiftly into dust.\n\n    We lift our hungry hands to Heaven\n      For pity and in pain\n    The only answer ever given\n      Is that fancy and faith remain.\n\n    Wars we wage that One might rule....\n      Proud and jealous is He.\n    With fire and sword we crush the fool\n      Who does not bend the knee.\n\n    Temple and palace, hovel and hut,\n      Dreamer and doer of deeds,\n    At least one door is never shut,\n      God answers all our needs.\n\n    He walks the crest of some far hill\n      Against the setting sun,\n    The presence of a mighty will\n      Whose journey is never done.\n\n    Into the night and over the dawn\n      All the things that are\n    Through empty voids go plunging on....\n      Planet and sun and star.\n\n    Yet He we worship died years ago\n      Like some poor human clod,\n    And that which wanders to and fro\n      Is only the ghost of God!\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXIV\n\n\n\"A bear went over the mountain,\" sang the child (Gud stopped to listen,\nfor the child had had its voice cultivated prenatally) \"to see what he\ncould see. A row of hanging skeletons, a swinging in the wind, was all\nthe bear could see in front, and he could not see behind.\"\n\n\"See here,\" interrupted Gud, \"you have the song mixed--what the bear saw\nwas the other side of the mountain.\"\n\n\"Awh, I know,\" replied the child, \"that was what the preteristic old\nbear saw, but I sing of the futuristic young bear.\"\n\nGud shook his head sadly. It made him feel archaic to come thus face to\nface with the younger generation in art and literature. Somehow he felt\nthat there was something amiss in this new universe that seemed to have\narisen Phoenixlike out of the ashes of nothing.\n\nGud turned from the child with the prenatally cultivated mind and went\non his way sorrowfully. And as he walked he hummed softly to\nhimself--\"The old-time creation, the old-time creation, It was good for\nUnph and Godumph ... and it's good enough for me....\"\n\n\"Come, come,\" monologued Gud--\"I must not get retrospective--I destroyed\nit all--ashes to ashes and dust to dust.\"\n\nAs Gud trudged on, trying to shake this mood of a sentimental\nretrospection from him, he found the light waning and the ether about\nhim turning grey and grim and gruesome.\n\nThen like an avalanche of dead ravens, sable darkness came tumbling down\nupon him. But there were whitish outlines in the darkness, moving and\nswaying, and there were rattlings and clanking sounds, and eery\nwhistlings.\n\nRachitic with fear Gud's knees bent beneath him and he sank down in the\nblackness and shuddered in his soul.\n\nBefore him, like a great grey army marching, the skeletons of all the\nmortal dead, of all the worlds and all the ages that had ever been, were\nfiling by.\n\nIn measured time they marched, their gaunt legbones swinging in great\nsweeping strides, their backbones bending and creaking as they marched;\nwhile the winds between the worlds whipped through empty eyes and hollow\nskulls and made eery whistling sounds--and all the dry bones rattled.\n\nSo the material dead, in the empty mockery of marching, passed by Gud in\nvain review.\n\nAnd Gud sat shuddering and alone and watched them--for eons and epochs,\nand epochs piled on eons of unmarked time.\n\nAfter all the countless and infinitely innumerable swinging, swaying,\nclanking, dry-boned skeletons had marched by Gud, they started around\nagain.\n\nGud knew that they were going around a second time, because he saw one\npass, bearing before his bleached and grinning fact the glow of a good\ncigar.\n\nThere could be no mistake about it, for these were the bones of the only\nsmoker who had ever believed that tobacco was as injurious as the\nnon-smokers said it was!\n\nThus made aware that the show was being repeated on him, Gud realized\nthat even the most gruesome and ghoulish sights and sounds became\ncommonplace with repetition; and he became bored, and his fear died\nwithin him. So he arose and walked right through the marching mass of\nswinging, swaying, rattling, whistling, dry-boned skeletons, and out\ninto the sunlight of a new day where he found Fidu digging up a freshly\nplanted lawn in search of a bone he had buried on a golf course\ncountless eons before.\n\n\"Come, come,\" said Gud, \"let the dead bones stay buried--the future of\neternal life is long enough without digging up the past.\"\n\nHaving dissuaded Fidu from his search for provender Gud offered him a\nportion of his own lunch.\n\n\"Do you remember,\" remarked Gud to the Underdog, as they sat munching\ntheir sandwiches, \"the time I was on that little world back there--\"\n\n\"Which one?\" asked Fidu.\n\n\"The one I am talking about, silly--I ran into an earthquake. It shook\nthings up rather badly and toppled over about half the houses, killing\nand maiming millions of mortals.\"\n\n\"What caused it?\"\n\n\"I don't know, probably it was accidental--but that isn't important.\nWhat interested me was what those poor mortals thought caused it. As I\nwas strolling through a town watching the relief committee at work, I\nhappened to see people going into a steep roofed building, which being\nwell constructed, had not fallen down. I joined the crowd and went in.\nOne of their kind was standing on a box at the far end of the building\nand talking. I sat down with the others and listened to him.\n\n\"He was talking about the 'divine visitation.' For a moment I became\nself-conscious, thinking my incognito had been discovered. But I soon\nrealized that he referred to the earthquake.\n\n\"His theory was interesting. He thought their silly little world had\nbeen shaken up by their divinity. I knew that he was mistaken, for I\nknew the chap who had that world in charge; he is a weak little god who\ncould not shake up a good-sized island.\"\n\n\"For what reason did the mortals think your friend shook them up?\" asked\nFidu.\n\n\"The one who was talking had two theories about it. You see they had two\nkinds of folks in that world--one bunch was called 'sinners' and one was\ncalled 'righteous.' Plenty of both bunches were killed by the quake. But\nit seemed that the fellow who was talking, wanted the sinners killed and\nhe was praising my friend for doing it. But his difficulty was in\nexplaining the death of the righteous, whom I gathered were friends of\nhis that had been in the habit of paying him to talk to them. There were\na good many empty stalls in the room with black cloths on them, and some\nof the women in the crowd were weeping.\n\n\"Well, after the talker got through explaining that their deity had\ncaused the earthquake for the purpose of killing the sinners, he had to\nadmit that it also got a few of the righteous. He said that this was due\nto the 'mysterious working of the divine purpose' or some such vagary.\"\n\n\"Well, what of it?\" asked Fidu.\n\n\"Nothing in particular, only it struck me as funny.\"\n\n\"Is that all?\"\n\n\"About,\" said Gud--\"but as I left that world, I took hold of its axis\nand gave it another shake.\"\n\n\"Did you know,\" said Fidu, \"that the Copycat had been visiting?\"\n\n\"What makes you think so?\"\n\n\"Because there are five little copy kittens.\"\n\nAfter which they journeyed on until they came to a wall. In this wall\nwere two doors. Before the wall stood a great multitude and they stared\nat the two doors with fixed glassy eyes.\n\nGud turned and spoke to the multitude and said: \"Why stare ye at the\ndoors in the wall and durst not enter?\"\n\n\"Alas, Great Gud,\" cried the multitude, as with one voice, \"we wish not\nto enter the doors, but would only know which door the man entered.\"\n\n\"That I will find out for you,\" said Gud, and he stepped up and examined\nthe knobs of the doors. Then he turned and bowed to the multitude, and\nturned yet again, and seizing the knob of one of the doors he swung it\nboldly open.\n\nAnd behold, there stood a man-eating tiger, contentedly licking his\nchops, his belly with fat lover lined.\n\nAnd Gud beckoned to the tiger which came out through the door and faced\nthe multitude, and on the tiger's face there was a faint fragrance of a\nsmile.\n\nAnd the tiger bowed to the multitude, and Gud also bowed with the tiger.\n\nAnd from the eyes of the multitude the glassy stare faded, and they\nturned and walked away, and some spoke exultant words to the others.\n\n\"But,\" asked Fidu of Gud, as they again went on their journey, \"how did\nyou know which door to open--did you smell the blood?\"\n\n\"No, you hundopomorphic canine fool, I looked for finger prints on the\nknobs of the doors.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXV\n\n\nGud, sauntering through the Market of Knowledge, came to a stall of a\nprophet and passed the time of day with him.\n\n\"Business is terrible,\" lamented the prophet.\n\n\"What is the trouble?\" asked Gud sympathetically.\n\n\"Unfair competition,\" replied the prophet. \"Those up-start scientists\nacross the way have berated my goods and stolen my customers until I\nhave none left save a few old ladies. Indeed, I fear me we shall never\nagain see those good old days when even young men believed there was\nmagic in the stars.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Gud, as he glanced about, \"your goods look shelf-worn.\"\n\n\"Shelf-worn you say? And why not? I have rare antiques here. See, here\nis the Golden Fleece and there is the Philosopher's Stone. That box in\nthe corner is the Hope Chest of Venus. And there in the window is the\nFountain of Youth. That puzzle beside it is the Riddle of the Universe.\nAnd this vial here contains the Evil Eye preserved in spirits of mocking\nwine.\"\n\n\"All very fine antiques,\" agreed Gud, \"but in this age a merchant must\nkeep up-to-date; you need new goods on your shelves.\"\n\n\"And new goods, I have had in time and again,\" declared the prophet.\n\"But they have stolen them from me. Did I not once make good money\nauguring from the entrails of animals, till these scientists found that\nthey were useful for sausage casings? And when the stars paled in\npopularity because the scientists turned their spy-tubes upon them, did\nI not sit over a wall of gas and make myself drunk with its stinking\nfumes, while my wife sold my insane babblings for wisdom, until those\nscientists stole the gas and ran it through pipes to the houses to make\nfuel for pots to boil? And did not I read the cracks in fools' palms,\nuntil the scientists made fingerprints to identify criminals, and then\nthe people durst not give me their hands to read lest I be a spy in the\nemploy of the state searching out their crimes? And did I not call\nmessages out of the air from distant lands, until the scientists trained\nthe lightning to bring messages and harnessed it to vehicles so that the\npeople could go and see for themselves that the lightning had not lied?\"\n\n\"Did you ever try interpreting dreams?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Bah!\" said the prophet. \"That was the idea with which I began business\nwhen this world was young. But they have spoiled that also and taught\nthe people that dreams were merely neurotic emanations of a bad bellyful\nof beef and beans. I tell you, my friend, they have left me nothing,\nnothing of mystery and magic to sell the people; and here I am, a\nprophet, wise in all the ways of prophecy, and sitting in an empty shop\nfull of musty bones!\"\n\nTaking leave of this disgruntled prophet, Gud strolled through the\nMarket of Knowledge to see for himself how it was that these scientists\nhad ruined the honorable business of prophecy. And Gud saw many wonders\nand much business going on. In one stall he saw a chemist with tubes and\nretorts brewing pretty smells to scent ill-favored women. In another he\nsaw a doctor with a microscope studying the germs of disease and making\npoisons to kill them. And in another was a chemist analyzing foods to\nsee how much fatness or leanness they contained, so that he could sell\nrecipes that would make the waists of his customers of a girth suited to\nthe length of their lovers' arms.\n\nAnd in all the shops of the scientists, Gud discovered that young men\nwere busy analyzing things and dissecting and dismembering them and\nfinding out of what they were made, so that they could prepare some\nrecipe or medicine or knowledge and sell it and get gain. And Gud\nwondered what was left that his old friend, the prophet, could dissect\nand analyze and sell as a scientific product and so get gain.\n\nAs Gud pondered this he chanced to stroll into the shop of a\npsychologist whose secretary had the nose bleed so that she fainted, and\nGud asked: \"What is the matter with her?\"\n\n\"She is unconscious,\" replied the psychologist, \"her mind has lost its\nawareness.\"\n\n\"Is her mind dead?\"\n\n\"No, no,\" retorted the psychologist.\n\n\"Then why does she not talk?\"\n\n\"Because her mind is unconscious and she cannot use it to talk with.\"\n\n\"But, what is she doing with it?\"\n\n\"Dreaming, most likely,\" replied the psychologist.\n\n\"Why do you not dissect her unconscious mind and see of what her dreams\nare made?\"\n\n\"Get out!\" cried the psychologist, \"I am a married man and I do not want\nto know of what her dreams are made.\"\n\nWhen Gud left the shop of the psychologist it was growing dark in the\nMarket of Knowledge. So he waited until the lights in the houses were\nbeing extinguished and the people were falling asleep.\n\nThe next morning when Gud entered the shop of his old friend, the\nprophet, he carried a sack, the contents of which he dumped on the\ntable.\n\n\"What are these things?\" demanded the prophet.\n\n\"They are unconscious minds,\" said Gud, \"and they are full of dreams. I\nwant you to dissect them and analyze them and see how the dreams are\nmade and what are the elements of them. Thus you shall make a science of\ndreams to sell to the people and get gain.\"\n\nSo saying, Gud left the shop and walked up the side of a grassy mountain\nwhere all the birds were singing and all the ewes were lambing and the\nlittle toadstools were pushing up great rocks with the power of the life\nthat was in them. And Gud lay down upon the new-grown grass and fell\nasleep, and slept till winter came. When the snow began to fall upon the\nfeet of Gud, he dreamed a dream.\n\nUpon awakening, Gud wondered what the meaning of the dream might be; and\nthus he recalled the Market of Knowledge, and went straightway to the\nshop of the prophet to have his dream interpreted. As he approached the\nshop he saw a line of people on the sidewalk, and took his place in the\nline. As the line moved through the door each one handed the doorkeeper\na sum of money. But Gud said he was a friend of the prophet and was\npermitted to enter so that he could hear the dreams being interpreted.\n\nA man said: \"I dreamed that I once misspelled a word by omitting the\nletter 'M.'\n\n\"That means,\" answered the prophet, \"that you once knew a girl whose\nname began with 'M.' Probably her name was Mary.\"\n\nA young woman said: \"I dreamed I was an old maid and yet I was going to\nhell.\"\n\n\"That means,\" said the prophet, \"that virtue is its own reward.\"\n\n\"I dreamed,\" said a man, \"that I was dead and in my grave, and that I\ncould hear the clods dropping on my coffin.\"\n\n\"That means,\" interpreted the prophet, \"that you are a pessimist, and\nthat you have that same infernal tin roofing on your house that I have\non mine--I heard it raining last night myself.\"\n\n\"I dreamed,\" a young girl related, \"that I was being run over by a steam\nroller, and I am anxious to have the dream interpreted because I am sure\nit is very significant.\"\n\n\"No, you are mistaken,\" explained the prophet. \"And you ought not to be\nreading those uncensored books on psychoanalysis, for they are very\nsuggestive. What your dream really means is that you have something\nbetween your teeth and need a toothpick. The analysis is simple. A\ntoothpick was formerly a goose quill--a quill is part of a\nfeather--feathers help birds to fly--airplanes also fly and have\nengines--so do steam rollers, the reason steam rollers do not fly is\nbecause they roll.\"\n\nSaid a man: \"I dreamed that the woman I married and whom I love very\ndearly had eloped with the janitor. Then I woke up and found that she\nhad, and I want to know what it all means.\"\n\n\"It means,\" replied the prophet who was very strong on professional\nethics, \"that your dream has come true and doesn't need interpreting;\nask the doorkeeper to give you your money back.\"\n\n\"I dreamed,\" related another man, \"that I had been captured by\ncannibals; the fire was roaring; the pot boiling; I was led forth, my\nhead laid on the chopping block, the battle ax was lifted--and then the\ncannibal chief's daughter rushed forward with a joyous cry and flung\nherself upon my neck in place of the ax and so I was saved.\"\n\n\"That means,\" replied the prophet, \"that the sex instinct is stronger\nthan the nutritional instinct.\"\n\n\"I dreamed,\" stated another man, who was just in front of Gud, \"that I\nwas in love with my brother.\"\n\n\"That means nothing indecent,\" expounded the prophet, \"because dreams\nare the voices of the unconscious mind which we inherited from an\nearlier period of our evolution. Homo-sexual dreams merely hark back to\nthe time when we were all asexual creatures, hence they are entirely\nproper. By similar psychic law we whitewash dreams of incest, murder,\ntorture, rape, arson, cannibalism, and political graft. All such dreams\nare perfectly respectable and may be told with pride to your wife, your\nmother, or your pastor, because they indicate that the unconscious mind\nis perfectly natural. But there is one dream that should not be told to\nyour wife. To wit: a dream of polygamy--it is too damned natural.\"\n\nNow Gud had supposed that his friend would recognize him. But the\nprophet was busy with some figures in a small book and he merely called,\n\"Next.\" So Gud told this dream:\n\n\"I dreamed,\" replied Gud, \"that I heard a most wonderful melody. But\nwhen I woke up I found that I was sleeping near a strawstack and was\nlistening to the braying of a jackass.\"\n\n\"That means,\" replied the prophet, \"that you are one too. Five dollars\nplease, and what did you come in here for? When I was dealing in black\nmagic and making prophecies by poking into the steaming entrails of\nvirgin goats, I at least had my self-respect. And now you get out of\nhere before I call the Centurian and have you arrested for stealing the\nsubconscious mind of the President of our Academy of Science.\"\n\nIngratitude is sharper than a woman's tongue; and when Gud heard what\nthe prophet said, he whipped out a ram's horn and blew a withering\nblast. When the ground trembled with the echo thereof, all the shops in\nthe Market of Knowledge fell down and a great tidal wave swept in from\nthe Sea of Trouble.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXVI\n\n\nAfter everyone else had drowned, Gud came up for air. He lit a cigarette\nand blew a smoke ring and tossed it on the water to see if it would\nfloat. It did and so Gud climbed upon it and sat there cross-legged to\nwait for his robe to dry.\n\nPresently he saw a man coming toward him running on the water and\ncarrying a package under one arm and a half-finished manuscript under\nthe other. The man came up panting and out of breath and cried: \"Save\nme!\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" said Gud. \"But what have you in the package?\"\n\nAt this the man hurled the package at Gud and sank into the depths with\nbubbling groan.\n\nGud unwrapped the package and found that it contained three mountains.\nThese Gud tossed upon the water where they floated equidistant on the\nsurface of the sea. On the first mountain was a man in dire agony of\nsoul. On the second mountain was a beautiful woman about to plunge a\ndagger into her heart because of her love for the man. On the third\nmountain was another woman no less beautiful, and she was about to cast\nherself into the sea because of her hate of the woman who loved the man.\nBut Gud, who knew all things, was not interested in what would happen\nnext; and, his robe being dry, he arose and walked leisurely away on the\nwater and did not once look back.\n\nTiring of walking on the water Gud looked about for a conveyance. Just\nthen a deep-sea fish came to the surface and winked at Gud with his\nglassy eye.\n\n\"I came up to see if I could find out,\" said the fish, \"who that fellow\nwas who came tumbling down into my depths a little while ago.\"\n\n\"Why do you wish to know?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Because,\" replied the fish, \"I feel as if I had swallowed a theological\ndiscussion and it is giving me indigestion.\"\n\n\"Suppose you turn over and let the sun shine on your belly,\" suggested\nGud. \"Sunlight is very healing.\"\n\n\"Thanks, but my belly is white and I do not wish to have it\nsunburned--but who do you suppose is coming in yonder boat?\"\n\nWhen the boat came nearer Gud and the fish saw that the boat also\ncontained a man and two women. The man was talking. \"Suppose,\" said he,\n\"that the boat should upset: neither of you can swim, and what would I\ndo? For I could not save you both. I could not let my dear old mother\ndrown and yet how could I let my beautiful wife drown? If I had realized\nhow I was going to worry about it, I should have insisted on going to\nthe mountains for our vacation.\"\n\nUpon hearing the man's words the two women set up a great weeping.\n\n\"I wonder,\" said Gud, \"which one he would save!\"\n\n\"Let's find out,\" laughed the fish; and without further ado he dived\nbeneath the boat and upset it with a mighty stroke of his great scaly\ntail.\n\n\"Help!\" screamed the mother.\n\n\"Help!\" gurgled the young wife.\n\n\"Now I am in a devil of a fix,\" groaned the man, \"which ever one I save,\nthe neighbors will say I should have saved the other one.\" And he\nstarted off alone swimming rapidly toward the shore.\n\nThen the fish remembered that the young wife was quite plump--even if\nshe wasn't beautiful as her husband had said she was, so he dived deep\ninto the sea and left Gud standing there on the water without a blessed\nthing to do and nothing to think about.\n\nAnd now a wind came sighing over the deep blue sea, and little ripples\nstirred upon the surface of the water, and then the wind came soughing\nover the roughened sea, and larger wavelets raced and ran atop the cold,\ndamp water. And soon the wind began to howl and tear the wild, wet sea,\nand mighty waves began to break and toss and splatter--and it made Gud\nseasick.\n\nSo he began to wonder why the waves kept going on and leaving him\nbehind. The more he thought about it, the more it worried him; and\nfinally it occurred to Gud that he was opposing the waves\nsubconsciously. So he sublimated his subconscious conflict and\nharmonized his ego with the spirit of the waves, and when the next wave\nhit him he rode atop it like a cat on the ridgepole of a cabin going\ndown the river in a June rise.\n\nAs the wave struck the shore, it began to break and make breakers. As\nsoon as it was broke, Gud dismounted and strolled along the beach\nlooking for flotsam and jetsam.\n\nHe didn't find any, so he picked up a jeweled casket and started to\nwonder with a great curiosity what it contained. Then suddenly, he\ntossed the jeweled casket aside without even examining the padlock, for\nhe had remembered that he knew all things and hence could not wonder nor\npossess curiosity. But upon further consideration he realized that lack\nof wonder and curiosity on his part would kill all the suspense in his\nstory, so he began to wonder what the wild waves were saying, and why\nsea shells are pink inside, and what the ink-fish was writing on the\nsands of time.\n\nGud pondered these things as he walked along the beach until he saw\nbefore him a series of shallow depressions. At first he thought they\nwere ordinary soul tracks. Then he looked again and gave forth a low\nwhistle of surprise and amazement and bent low to examine the\nfootprints--and shrank back in horror, for they were stained a deep\ncrimson.\n\nCautiously Gud touched his finger to the stain and examined it\ncritically. \"'Tis blood!\" he cried.\n\nGud began to trail the stained footprints along the beach and followed\nthem until they turned and led into the sea. At the edge of the water he\npaused and sighed, for his robe was now nicely dehydrated. But curiosity\nis a compelling instinct and wonder a powerful emotion; and so Gud\nfollowed the trail as it led down the sloping beach and on down along\nthe bottom of the sea.\n\nAt last the trail led to a rocky cavern where phosphorescent eyes stared\nout of opalescent water. Here the trail came finally to an end as it\nentered a door in the side of a barnacle-covered hull of an ancient\ngalley.\n\n\"And what is this place?\" asked Gud of a mermaid, who was sitting on one\nof the ship's knees: \"and what bold criminal with a blood-stained trail\nhas entered here?\"\n\n\"Can't you read?\" retorted the mermaid. \"The sign tells you plainly\nenough that this is our Deep-Sea Butcher Shop, and he who just now\nentered was the butcher's boy, who had been up on the shore to get some\nred-blooded meat. We tire dreadfully down here of having seven Fridays\nin a week. And now if you will quit being silly and playing at amateur\ndetective I will sing you a song.\" And so she sang:\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXVII\n\n\n    It was a soulful song he sung,\n      A doleful song sang he,\n    For in the sun her body swung\n      High on the gallows' tree.\n\n    The loathsome vultures swooped among\n      The shadows hungrily,\n    As though awaiting for the dung\n      That swayed there horribly.\n\n    Then as a distant church bell rung\n      Slowly, peacefully,\n    Out through the night a mad cry flung\n      Red echoes suddenly.\n\n    A mad cry, then the silence clung\n      O'er sky and shore and sea;\n    He dead below, and she that hung\n      High on the gallows' tree.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXVIII\n\n\n\"Oh, listen to the mocking bird!\" cried the crustacean.\n\n\"Ha, ha!\" laughed the crinoid, \"that is only a mock turtle.\"\n\n\"Oh H_{2}O!\" snorted the good red herring, \"you talk like a fish out of\nwater.\"\n\n\"She has a necklace of shark's teeth,\" whispered the jealous water baby.\n\n\"And a pearl without a price,\" piped the sea lady.\n\n\"But why do mermaids have fish tales to tell?\" demanded Gud.\n\n\"I don't know,\" answered the deep sea diver, who was looking for the\ntreasure. \"But they call 'Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea'\nprophetic fiction, but you can't shoot a rifle under water without\nblowing your head off.\"\n\nJust then the Underdog barked at the copycat and Gud woke up and\nrealized that all this marine stuff was just the subconscious yearning\nof a writer born in the short grass country to imitate Conrad, and that\nhe, Gud, was still lying in the pasture, and that the snow had changed\nto rain and his feet were wet.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XXXIX\n\n\n    And old Giasticuticus\n      Stood on a mountain side,\n    His right legs shorter than his left,\n      And scratched his tough, thick hide.\n\n    \"I live upon a bias, true,\n      With legs I'd like to hide,\n    But that arose from dwelling here\n      Upon the mountain side.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XL\n\n\nAnd Gud came upon a paradise, its streets of hammered gold. Iridescent\nfountains played beneath o'er-hanging palms, and gentle breezes, wafting\nthrough the glistening latticery of ornate edifice, made music soft and\nlow that lulled of peace and quiet and eternal joy.\n\nHere was a paradise prepared for most exacting saints. Gud strolled its\nmillion leagues about and wondered why there was no sign of occupants.\nThese heavenly mansions were not newly built but rather spoke of use.\nWhile all the major structures were intact, the minor furnishings gave\nevidence of chaos and disorder. This paradise, it seemed to Gud, had\nonce o'erflown with life, but now was empty and abandoned.\n\nAll this puzzled Gud and worried him. He was familiar with the ruins of\nmany a paradise that had been smashed and broken by rebellion or by war,\nbut his mind could find no reason why a heaven so fine as this should be\ndeserted, and yet remain in such fair state of preservation.\n\nThe most likely theory which he could conceive, was that some pestilence\nhad raged and stripped the place of every living soul. Over this Gud\ncogitated. Had it been a dwelling place of mortal flesh, a pestilence\nwould have left its tell-tale stench or whitening bones. But immortal\nsouls--how could pestilence have slain them? His theory thus became a\nparadox or worse yet a dilemma, and either one is harrowing to the mind.\nSo Gud started out again in search of facts.\n\nAfter much meandering he was rewarded by finding himself looking down\ninto a high-walled garden, most beautiful of any spot that he had yet\ndiscovered. And better still, he noted signs of life. He hastened to\ndescend, that he might explore the garden. It was there beneath a bower\nthat he found a female soul most radiant. She was sitting on a gorgeous\npurple rock, and singing, and knitting as she sang, while all about her,\ntumbling on the grass in a most completely idiotic fashion, were little\nsouls at play.\n\n\"Good morning,\" said Gud.\n\nThe soul stared up at him in most incredulous manner and replied; \"I\nthought they were all dead.\"\n\nWith much patient questioning, Gud wrested from this soul, alone in a\nvast heaven--save for the little souls that played most idiotically upon\nthe grass--a tale of a paradise gone wrong because of a theological\nblunder.\n\nIt was a tedious tale and she who sat knitting there upon the purple\nrock told it to Gud in broken fragments of narration. First she related\nhow the place had been peopled by all the host of souls passed over from\na certain muddy sphere, and who came to this heaven as the result of\nfaith in a most liberal theology that promised universal salvation to\nsaint alike with sinner.\n\nAnd so they all in one triumphal procession came to claim the rewards\nand demand the fulfillment of the promises. And yet they had not\ntarried--none but she who told the tale and the bevy of little tumbling\nspirits, who were none other than the souls of idiotic babes born into\ntheir material world of long ago, deaf and blind as they were imbecile.\n\nGud suspected, even as the tale unfolded, that there had been some\nfearful blunder in the promises; and right enough he was, for the ninth\npromise of their creed had been, \"Then ye shall know the truth.\"\n\nSo all the myriads of saved souls, who had cherished the promises, had\ncome to know the truth as it had been promised them. When they arose in\nglittering gowns and halos bright upon that Resurrection Morn and\nstarted singing, one by one and then by twos and tens and soon by scores\nand thousands they remembered all that they had wished to know of all\ntheir pasts and ponderings. And to their minds, reborn to omniscience of\nthe truth of what had been as it had really been, came also the memories\nof what they thought had been.\n\nThe books of hymns had fallen from their hands, and voices lost the key\nand shrieked in agony. Insane ravings, babblings and cursing smote the\nair of heaven. Chaos reigned supreme and all the hosts of heaven went\nraving mad and babbled as they raved.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLI\n\n\n    I buy my clothes in high-priced shops;\n      My collars match my shirts;\n    I swing a dapper cane with ease\n      And ogle all the skirts.\n\n    I follow the ads in the Satevepost;\n      I have picked the car to buy;\n    I read the \"Book of Etiquette,\"\n      And \"Sappho\" on the sly.\n\n    A bit of my handkerchief always shows\n      In a pocket of my coat....\n    I carry a letter next to my heart\n      That a movie actress wrote.\n\n    I said to a lady I flirted with:\n      \"I'm a gent!\" But then she ran,\n    Though over her shoulder sweetly said:\n      \"That's a third of a gentleman!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLII\n\n\nAnd Gud came to a great Republic and sat himself down at meat in a\ntavern of the capital city thereof. Said the damsel who came to serve\nhim: \"Alas, there is no meat, for we have civil war, and all the meat is\nrequisitioned for the soldiers.\"\n\nWhen she had said that a volley of guns sounded in the street. Gud\nlooked out of the window and saw two armies firing at each other. The\none army was composed of men richly garbed, and the other of men poorly\nclad, and the rich men and the poor men were killing each other. Seizing\nthe white table linen, Gud went out into the midst of the murderous\narmies and waved the table linen peacefully.\n\nThe General of the Rich Men and the General of the Poor Men rushed up\nangrily to Gud and both demanded in aggrieved tones to know why he was\npeacefully interfering with the war.\n\n\"Because,\" said Gud, \"The soldiers are eating all the meat.\"\n\n\"But,\" cried the generals, \"you have stopped the war--and now what shall\nwe do? We had tried the courts; we had tried the ballot; we had tried\narbitration and all failed. So we resorted to war, which is the last\nresort of civilized people, and we do not wish to revert to savagery.\"\n\n\"I stopped the war,\" said Gud, \"because I dislike to have the streets\ncovered with blood--it makes them slippery, but I am sorry. Is there\nanything I can do to help you start it again?\"\n\nThe generals shook their heads sadly, for they saw that the Poor Men and\nthe Rich Men were fraternizing and exchanging cigarettes, and they knew\nthat the war was over.\n\n\"I wonder,\" said Gud, \"since I spoiled the war, if you would mind\ntelling me what it was all about?\"\n\n\"Gladly,\" said the generals, and they invited Gud into the tavern--and\nnow the damsel brought meat which Gud ate, while the generals of the\nlate war related the cause thereof.\n\n\"It so happened,\" they said, \"that we wished to erect a shrine to the\nPresident of our Republic while he was yet alive to be worshipped\ntherein. The rich men gave the money and the poor men held their hats to\nreceive it.\n\n\"When the money was gathered, the committee took it to our beloved\nPresident and asked him the manner of shrine he would have. And our\nPresident said: 'All that any man is, his mother made him--therefore I\nask that the shrine shall consist of a great gallery, and in this\ngallery shall hang the portrait of my mother.'\n\n\"So our committee called upon all the artists and they selected the two\nbest. One artist's name was Jake Smith, and he was born naked into the\nworld amidst dire poverty and considerable adversity, but he had become\na great artist for all that and had painted the portraits of many rich\nand be-jeweled ladies.\n\n\"And the other artist bore the name of Glengary Du Peyster, and he was\nborn with a silver spoon in his mouth; but in spite of that he also\nlearned to paint, and he had searched out all the poor and wretched old\nwomen of our slums and hovels and painted of them very great pictures.\n\n\"When these artists took samples of their work to show to our President,\nhe said: 'You may both paint my mother, and then my mother shall decide\nwhich is the best painting.'\n\n\"'Very well,' said the artists, 'will you conduct us to her home?'\n\n\"So the President took them to a little flat in K Street where lived a\npoor, blind widow and he said: 'Artists, meet my mother!'\n\n\"Glengary Du Peyster was over-joyed, for this was the kind of a woman he\ncould paint best, and he wished to send immediately for his canvas and\nbrushes.\n\n\"But it was not to be so, for the President now conducted the artists to\na mansion in D Street, and here in a great hall hung with tapestry and\nshaded lights was a fine old lady, and the president said again:\n'Artists, meet my mother!'\n\n\"And now it was Jake Smith's time to rejoice; and he glared at Glengary\nDu Peyster, and neither of them durst speak their thoughts.\n\n\"Then the President took them both back to his official residence and\nfeasted them on grouse and wine, and as they sat about their cigars Jake\nSmith said: 'Mr. President, which is your mother?'\n\n\"'Alas,' said our great President, 'I do not know.'\n\n\"At this both artists lost their artistic tempers and rushed into the\nstreet. As the news-makers gathered about them, they told what had\nhappened and what the president had said, and it was published abroad in\nour great Republic, together with photos of the two women, each of whom\nthe President had introduced as his mother.\n\n\"Then our citizens warmed to heated arguments and gathered themselves\ninto two parties, the poor to themselves under the leadership of Jake\nSmith, for they agreed with him that our great President should have a\nfine and noble lady for his mother. But the rich, under the leadership\nof Glengary Du Peyster said: 'Surely our President was born of the poor\nand lowly mother, how else can we be a true republic, where all men are\nborn free and equal?'\"\n\n\"That is very interesting,\" said Gud as he took another forkful of meat,\n\"but why did you not ask the women themselves?\"\n\n\"We did ask them,\" said the leaders of the late war, \"but both said they\ndid not know. So we thought war was the only way to settle the matter.\nAnd now you have spoiled the war, which is the last resort of civilized\npeople, and we shall surely revert to savagery.\"\n\nThe following day Gud was conducted with great pomp and ceremony to the\nHall of Justice, where he sat down upon the judge's bench.\n\nSaid Gud to the President of the great Republic, who was there in his\nown person: \"Bring in your poor mother and put her on the witness\nstand.\"\n\nThe President did so, and Gud saw before him a stooped, wrinkled and\nblind creature who was poorly dressed but neat and clean.\n\n\"Now,\" said Gud in his most kindly tone, \"we will dispense with the\nswearing and you may tell me all that happened in your own language.\"\n\n\"Believe me, your honor,\" said the poor mother, \"it was no fault of\nmine, for I was blind and how could I tell which one was which? You see,\nI was a widow, because my husband died by the falling on him of a stone\nin the quarry when he was getting out rocks for the cellar of the house\nof Eben Gratz. And so when they buried him I was left all by myself, but\nfor the babe that was coming. When it came it was a twin and they both\ncried just alike, so that I could not tell which one was which.\n\n\"And nobody had ever seen them until the day I heard a fine automobile\ndriving up the road, purring like a cat fed upon cream. It stopped by my\ncabin and a lady with a rustly gown got out and came into the cabin. I\nsat waiting for her to speak to me, thinking that perhaps in her rich\nkindness she might have brought some clothes for my twins. I heard her\ngo to the old cow trough where the twins were lying under the horse\nblanket. Then, without saying a word, she rustled out again and was\ngone.\n\n\"And presently the twins began to cry and I could tell now that they did\nnot cry alike, and I knew that she had stolen one of my babies and left\nanother in its place.\n\n\"So I raised them up as best I could. The girl she was good and dutiful\nand married a good man. But the boy, he was smart and did not marry\nanybody; and he became the President of his country just as I knew he\nwould. While I am not saying whether he is my son or not, I can not say\nhe isn't; and he can't, either, because he can't remember whether it was\nhimself or his sister that was brought that day by the fine lady and\nexchanged for his brother. So you see, sir, just how it is.\"\n\nGud did not see, but disliked to admit it, so he asked that the rich\nmother of the President of the Great Republic be brought also before\nhim.\n\nAs she came into the room he saw what a grand old lady she was, for she\nwalked erect and proud and her manners were queenly and stately, and Gud\ncould see how she impressed all the poor men in the courtroom with her\ngreatness.\n\nWhen the rich mother of the President began speaking in a low, melodious\nvoice that quivered with emotion, she said:\n\n\"Your honor, there is naught I can tell save to confess that when my\nchild was born I was so overwhelmed with maternal emotion that I became\nambitious for my child. But I knew that I was rich and lived in a\nmansion and that riches are a handicap to any child. I recalled that it\nwas always the boys born in log cabins and nurtured in poverty that\nbecame our great men, and presidents of our great Republic.\n\n\"So I took my darling babe with me in my car and drove out into the\nmountains where the soil was rocky and the people were poor, and finally\nI came to a very picturesque log cabin that had only three sides. I\nstopped the car, and took my own child and stole toward the cabin and\npeeped in. There sat a poor, blind, widowed mother knitting with a ball\nof coarse yarn.\n\n\"And over in the corner I saw a cow trough and a horse blanket and it\nwas from there that the cry of the child came. So I stole over and\nraised the blanket and saw there the faces of two sweet babes. I closed\nmy eyes and tore off the wrappings from my own child and quietly placed\nhim in the trough; and then, seizing one of the babes in the trough, I\nwrapped it in the silken robes I had taken from my own child and\nhastened back to my car.\n\n\"The child I stole, when he learned to talk, told me that he was a boy.\"\n\n\"Pardon me, madame,\" interrupted Gud, \"but what was the sex of your own\nchild that you left in the cow trough?\"\n\nAt the question the refined lady blushed painfully. \"Do not insult me,\nsir,\" she said icily. Then she continued: \"I raised this child of the\npoor blind widow and he became the best dancer of the younger set. But\nwhile I lavished on him all of a fond mother's care, deep in my heart\nwas the love for my own child that I had so bravely committed to the\ncare of the poor blind widow in the log cabin with only three sides.\n\n\"So I employed detectives to keep secret watch about the cabin, and when\nthe two children were old enough to be dressed distinctively the\ndetective reported to me that one was a boy and one was a girl.\n\n\"It was then that I realized my grievous error in exchanging my own\nchild for one of two twins, for I could not know whether the boy or the\ngirl was my own child. So I waited to see how they would turn out. And\nwhen the girl married a clam digger down on the river I decided to say\nnothing to her. But when the boy worked his way through college by\ndelivering milk before dawn, I sent for him and confessed to him that\nI was either his mother or his sister's mother.\n\n\"So from that day to this he has been a dutiful son to me as well as to\nthe poor blind widow who may also be his mother. And when he was elected\nPresident of our Great Republic, both she and I rejoiced. All would be\nwell, if only his love for his mother had not prompted him to wish to\nhave her painting hung in the memorial shrine. That is all I have to\nconfess.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLIII\n\n\n    Who shall say that his love was not good\n    For the dummy of cloth and wax and wood?\n    I know that more curious things exist\n    Than the love of a dreaming ventriloquist.\n\n    He liked to perch her on his knee\n    Combing her black hair lovingly,\n    Then talk by the hour just as though\n    She understood and ought to know.\n\n    Her chatter merged with his and twice,\n    I know, he struck her ... it wasn't nice.\n    Repenting, he bought her costly things--\n    Gowns, rare necklaces and rings.\n\n    One night they found him on the floor\n    Stark dead ... each year I wonder more\n    Why, killing himself, he never wrote\n    Of the dagger he sank in her wooden throat.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLIV\n\n\nNow the fame of Gud's wisdom was broadcast about, so that important\npersonages of other worlds came and laid their problems at the feet of\nGud and begged of him solutions.\n\nAmong them were two citizens of a world that was in dire distress. And\none of these citizens was a Keeper of Morals of his sphere, and the\nother was the Vital Statistician.\n\nTo Gud the Statistician said: \"Our world is full, so that there is no\nmore room for further population, and I have therefore ordered that the\nissue of birth permits be curtailed.\"\n\n\"And in doing so,\" cried the Keeper of Morals, \"you have ignored the law\nwhich bade us be fruitful and multiply.\"\n\n\"That have I done,\" replied the Statistician, \"because the facts have\nobsoleted the law. Our world is full, and what good would it do to issue\nmore birth permits when there is no more room to be born into?\"\n\n\"But you should make room,\" protested the Keeper of Morals, \"by issuing\nmore death permits. Surely it is not as great a sin to die as it is not\nto be born.\"\n\n\"But I insist,\" declared the Statistician, \"that to issue more death\npermits than there are people ready to sicken and die would be to\nencourage suicide and murder. Do you countenance such unmoral ways of\ndying?\"\n\n\"Certainly not,\" retorted the Keeper of Morals, \"suicide and murder are\ncrimes. We must not encourage them, but neither must we discourage\nbirths, for we are commanded to be fruitful and multiply.\"\n\n\"I agree with you,\" said Gud, addressing himself to the Keeper of\nMorals, \"in your belief that it is wrong to discourage births, and also\nwrong to encourage deaths--for unrestricted birth and unpremeditated\ndeath are great moral principles and nothing must be allowed to\ninterfere with them.\"\n\n\"Exactly,\" replied the Keeper of Morals, \"yet this Statistician is\ninterfering by producing his unwelcome facts. He tells us that our world\nis full and that there is room in it for not a single being more.\"\n\nGud turned to the Statistician and demanded: \"Is this fact that you have\nproduced a true fact or is it only a statistical fact?\"\n\nAnd the Statistician replied: \"The fact is a true fact. Indeed, when we\nleft to come here to consult you, we were obliged to make dummies and\nleave them in our places so that we would find room for ourselves when\nwe returned. All this I can readily prove to you, if you will come with\nus and see for yourself that there is room in our world for not a single\nbeing more.\"\n\n\"It is not necessary for me to go out of my way,\" said Gud, \"to see your\nworld, but I will send for it.\" And Gud called Fidu and commanded the\nUnderdog to go and fetch the world from whence his visitors came.\n\nSo Fidu went and fetched that world, and brought it and laid it at the\nfeet of Gud.\n\nGud looked upon that world and saw that the fact of its fullness was a\ntrue fact and that there was room thereon for not a single being more.\nSo Gud turned and said to the Keeper of Morals: \"The fact of the\nabsolute fullness of your world is a true fact and also obvious and\nincontrovertible. What do you propose to do about it?\"\n\n\"Why, nothing, Your Deity,\" replied the Keeper of Morals, \"it is not my\nbusiness to deal with facts when they interfere with morals--I merely\nignore them.\"\n\n\"Then,\" asked Gud, \"why quarrel you with this Statistician? Why do you\nnot let him and his facts alone?\"\n\n\"And that I should do gladly, if he would but let me and my morals\nalone, but he is withholding the issuing of birth permits.\"\n\nSo Gud addressed the Statistician and said: \"Why do you not let this man\nand his morals alone?\"\n\n\"Because,\" the Statistician made reply, \"his morals are incompatible\nwith my facts, which are: First, our world is absolutely full: Second,\nthere can be no more births than deaths: Third, we must either issue\nmore death permits or cease to issue so many birth permits. That is\nabsolutely logic, yet this Moralist refuses to accept it.\"\n\n\"I certainly do,\" shouted the Moralist. \"Away with your sinful facts and\nyour wicked logic! The morality of our world must be preserved at all\ncosts. We must not encourage murder nor suicide, nor dare we discourage\nbirths, for that is also murder of those who would be born, and so it is\nrace suicide. On these moral principles I stand as on the rock of truth,\nand no torrents of facts or floods of logic can dislodge me.\"\n\n\"You will have to admit,\" argued Gud, addressing the Vital Statistician,\n\"that the Moralist has the courage of his convictions. Therefore the\ngreat truth of moral principle should be regarded above the smaller\ntruths of material facts and mental logic--and many of the inhabitants\nof your world, if I know mortal nature, will agree with me.\"\n\n\"Sad but true,\" agreed the Statistician. \"I am only able to hold my job\nbecause I am under civil service and not subject to popular election.\nBut you, Great Gud, appear to me to be a rational being.\"\n\n\"Oh, yes,\" confessed Gud, \"I am quite rational at times; but from the\nnature of my position it is only right that I should uphold morality\nwhen it clashes with rationality, as I regret to say it often does.\nBecause I must do this, I can see both sides of the case, which neither\nof you gentlemen can. So to me the solution is very simple, and will\noutrage neither morals nor reason. Murder and suicide must not be\nencouraged, births must not be limited, yet your world is full.\nObviously, you must proceed to empty it. There is only one moral way to\ndo that. You must have a war--preferably a righteous war. That requires\na cause with two right sides. Such causes are plentiful. Any question\nthat can be looked at from two sides, either of which, when looked at\nrightly is the right side, will serve as the cause for a righteous war.\nThis dispute that you gentlemen bring me will do nicely. Let the\nmoralists fight for their moral principles and the rationalists fight\nfor their facts.\"\n\n\"But,\" interrupted the Statistician, \"my side would have very few\nadherents; men do not fight to defend facts. We would be overwhelmed by\nsuperior numbers and annihilated.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said Gud, \"what more could you expect if you espouse an\nunpopular cause?\n\n\"But why stand here babbling? See, your valorous enemy has already\nreturned to his followers and is calling them to arms. Why do you not\nhasten to join your colors?\"\n\n\"Thanks,\" replied the Statistician, \"but I left a dummy in my place and\nI am going to stay right here and count the stars.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLV\n\n\nPassing a heap of fossil platitudes Gud came to an oasis in a Desert of\nRighteousness and saw nineteen pretty murderers hanging in a row. There\nalso he saw the couple who were parted at the altar, a woman who had\nlost her intuition, and a herd of ambitious animals who believed in the\ntransmigration of souls.\n\nGud entered the caravansary of the place and bargained with the keeper\nthereof to make a supper with meat and wine--after which there should be\ndancing.\n\nTo the supper, Gud bade a Skeptic, a Cynic, a Critic and a Cryptic. And\nGud and his guests made merry.\n\nGud blew four halos of phosphorescent smoke and gave one to each of his\nguests. Whereupon they were flattered and waxed loquacious, and the\nCynic said to Gud: \"If you had not insisted on following that Impossible\nCurve, but had come here by the straight way, how much sooner you would\nhave joined us.\"\n\n\"True,\" agreed the Critic, \"but the straight and narrow way would have\nseemed much further, for it lies wholly in the Desert of Righteousness.\"\n\n\"But most of all I hate to see,\" remarked the Cynic, \"is a female cat\nsitting on a gravestone in the moonlight, after I carefully killed her\nthe day before.\"\n\n\"Quite true,\" replied the Cryptic, with a weary shrug.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLVI\n\n\nThen the Skeptic related to Gud some of the gossip of the place. \"We\nhave here,\" said he, \"a powerful sheik who rules over this oasis in the\nDesert of Righteousness. The sheik being old, had twenty young wives;\nand each of these wives had a lover. Came a time when the old sheik went\non a journey but returned a day before he was expected. Finding only one\nof his wives in the harem, he called the masons and walled up the\nwindows and doors of the place, and that is why the nineteen pretty\nmurderers are hanging in a row.\"\n\n\"But,\" said Gud, \"the story seems incomplete.\"\n\n\"Not at all,\" replied the Skeptic, \"it is only that you do not\nunderstand our laws and customs. These things are relative, you\nknow....\"\n\n\"If you will listen well,\" spoke up the Cryptic, \"I will expound\nrelativity to you. Now, if a man should buy a lot on time and the lot\nhad but two dimensions, then if time should be destroyed, could the real\nestate agent justly demand payment for the lot?\"\n\n\"Why, certainly,\" answered Gud. \"Is not the Impossible Curve in the Nth\ndimension?\"\n\n\"But I have not told you yet,\" interrupted the Skeptic, \"what the old\nsheik did. You see, he felt so remorseful that he endowed a School of\nTheological Mathematics, and each year he grants a doctor's dilemma to\nthe young man who can most nearly solve the problem of the trinity.\"\n\n\"What is the solution?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"We do not know,\" replied the Skeptic, \"for as yet no man has ever\nsolved it.\"\n\n\"But I was explaining relativity to our host,\" cried the Cryptic, \"and\nyou interrupt me with this trifling gossip. Now, if a mass of silence\ntraveling at the speed of light, should be deflected by a caricature of\na phantom magnetic force, would the energy engendered--\"\n\nBut at that moment the keeper of the caravansary appeared in the doorway\nand looked upon Gud questioningly. Gud nodded to him approvingly,\nwhereupon five beautiful damsels entered dancing to flats and sharps,\nand flute and cymbal.\n\nSo the discussion of relativity was forgotten, as all things of the\nintellect are forgotten, when damsels young and beautiful dance to lute\nand timbrel.\n\nAfter there had been much joyous dancing, the Cynic plucked at Gud's\nsleeve and asked:\n\n\"Who be these beautiful damsels, who dance so divinely, and whence came\nthey?\"\n\nAnd Gud made answer and said: \"These damsels be the daughters of the\nPope, but I know not whence they came.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLVII\n\n\nAnd it came to pass that as Gud was making a long journey to a certain\nplace he neared a wayside inn, and being weary he entered and found six\ncharacters drinking tea.\n\n\"Good evening,\" spoke Gud. \"Why are you drinking tea?\"\n\n\"We are drinking tea,\" replied the Clerical Collar, \"so that we can\nengage in theological disputation without cutting one another's\nthroats.\"\n\n\"What is the dispute about?\" asked Gud.\n\nThe Black Bathrobe made answer and said: \"It concerns our belief in\nGud.\"\n\n\"May I join you?\" inquired Gud.\n\n\"Delighted!\" cried the Vest with the Silver Horseshoes, not recognizing\nthe caller.\n\nGud sat down and the Clerical Collar poured him a cup of hot water, but\nneglected to pass him the tea ball. Not wishing to attract attention to\nthe oversight, which he realized was due to the host's being absorbed in\nspiritual matters, Gud was about to convert the water into tea by a\nmiracle. Upon second thought he refrained, lest the display of\nmiraculous power would reveal his incognito. Still Gud did not like the\nidea of drinking water straight; so instead of performing a miracle he\nreached over and helped himself to the tea ball--noting, as he did so,\nhow much simpler it is to get results by natural laws than by\nunnecessary miracles.\n\nThe venerable Beard being less wrought up over the disputation,\nexplained the nature of the meeting to the newcomer. Said he: \"We are\nall worshipers and ministers of the one true Gud, having been born and\nbaptised in the faith and duly ordained in its ministry. But of late\ncertain heresies have arisen among us, and we are gathered here to\nferret out the heretic and bring him to the bar of ecclesiastical\njustice. Sad to confess, I find that I alone have remained staunch in\nour faith, which is founded on the rock of unchanging truth.\"\n\n\"Liar,\" cried out the Spectacles of the Student, \"we modernists are also\nstaunch in the faith; it is merely the conceit of fundamentalist bigotry\nto argue that truth cannot be changed. Indeed, it must be changed or\nintelligent people will cease to believe it.\"\n\n\"You are more accurate than expedient,\" admonished the Vest with the\nSilver Horseshoes. \"The faith of the people is waning fast, but it will\nnever be restored by your muddled mixtures of science and psychology.\nWhat is needed is a great faith-arousing event, such as the trial and\nburning of a heretic, and for that purpose are we assembled here.\"\n\n\"Sad, but true,\" agreed the Threadbare Coat. \"Any burning at the stake\nwould tend to revive faith, but the revival would be much stronger if\nthe burning flesh savored of heresy.\"\n\n\"What?\" shrieked the horrified Spectacles of the Student. \"Is it\nnecessary to burn human flesh in this modern age? Would it not do quite\nas well to set fire to a cage of black cats? Surely the burning of cats\nwould create a stench that would smell to high heaven.\"\n\n\"Tut, tut,\" sniffed the Clerical Collar.\n\nThen the Venerable Beard spoke up nobly. \"The red hand of heresy\ngrapples white faith by the throat. What is the use of all our\ntheological blue laws if the black heart of atheism continues to control\nour yellow press?\"\n\n\"Softly, softly, Brother,\" the Threadbare Coat made answer; \"It is not\ncharitable, neither is it wise, to bite the hand that feeds the press.\"\n\n\"Do not worry,\" replied the Vest with the Silver Horseshoes. \"I never\nlet my theological hand know what my secular hand doeth. Let us proceed\nto business. The burning of any heretic is good for a headline.\"\n\nThe Spectacles of the Student now arose in righteous indignation,\npointed a finger of contempt at the Vest with the Silver Horseshoes and\ncried: \"Do not tell me that you merely wish to burn a heretic to make\nnews for your paper. I know why you are a fundamentalist. You have a\nmonopoly on the oil!\"\n\n\"Young man, you betray your ignorance,\" spake the Clerical Collar. \"The\nchurch has its own oil reserves.\"\n\n\"But we should save the oil to pour on troubled waters,\" suggested the\nThreadbare Coat; \"and that we could do if we had an obese heretic who\nwould burn in his own fat.\"\n\nThe Vest with the Silver Horseshoes became self-conscious. \"There is no\nnecessity of my being the martyr,\" he said. \"I am already known to the\nmasses. Moreover a heretic, to burn brilliantly, must have ideas, not\nmere fat.\"\n\nA look of great fear now came into the Spectacles of the Student, who\ncried out: \"You all assume because you see a light in my attic that I am\nburning the midnight candle at both ends in search of ideas; but I tell\nyou it is the light of faith that shines from my window.\"\n\n\"What use is a false faith?\" retorted the Clerical Collar. \"I know that\nmy faith alone is the true faith, because my mother told me it was so.\nBut I will reveal the heretic to you.\" And he pointed an accusing finger\nat the Venerable Beard.\n\n\"If you have no respect for my grey hairs,\" wailed the accused, \"I will\npluck them out.\" And he seized his beard and tore it from his face.\n\n\"Do not think, brother,\" replied the Clerical Collar, \"that by doing\npenance with self-torture, you can avoid the stake. Moreover you should\nfeel honored at my charge, for I do not accuse you of any petty heresy,\nsuch as doubting that the eclipse of our moon is for the purpose of\nhiding the angels at their baths. I accuse you of the _Heresis Maximus_,\nthat you doubt the virgin father!\"\n\n\"Why, how absurd!\" remarked Gud naively. \"There never was one to doubt.\"\n\nNo sooner were these words out of the mouth of Gud than the six\ncharacters in search of a heretic pounced in frenzied joy upon him.\nBinding him with chains of iron and fetters of brass, they dragged him\nforth to the heretical pyre, to which the Vest of the Silver Horseshoes\napplied the torch, while the presses hummed with the news of the\nburning.\n\nBut as the flames licked hot about the feet of Gud, he slipped his\nchains; and blazing with ethereal fire that dulled the smoke of\nintolerance and the smudge of inquisition, Gud, the martyr, arose in a\nflame of splendor. And using the stars as stepping stones, he strode\nacross the heavens to the place where he was going--for he had an\nassignation there.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLVIII\n\n\nShe came toward Gud with an arch smile. In fact, her smile was very\narch. Her brows were also arched. But her nose was as straight as the\nroad to Hell and her lashes were curved as the new-born moon. They were\nalso long and drooping. Her eyes were opalescent, her complexion\ntranslucent, her forehead high, and her cheekbones low. She had a\ncupid's bow mouth and her lips were very ruby. Her teeth were like\ngenuine pearls and her chin was dimpled and single.\n\nWhen she spoke to Gud her voice was as musical as the song the silkworms\nsing.\n\nAnd when Gud spoke to her, she sighed in ecstasy of lavender-scented\nflattery, and her eyelids drooped like languid draperies across a\nseacoal fire.\n\n\"I have brought my book,\" she murmeled as she reached into her corsage\nand drew forth a manuscript bound with skins of humming birds. \"May I\nread it to you? It's title is 'Art and Wealth and Anatomy Sesame.'\"\n\nShe opened the book at random--which is the proper way to open any\nnon-fiction book written by a woman--and her voice warbled as she read:\n\n\"The lambent enoughness of atomless ultraness vegetateth for eons in\nultramarine slime and thence crawleth hencely, attaining esoteric power\nby the sublimation of the egomania into splenetic colorature which by\nchemic vortices electrifying plasmic erotifcanaticism ascends to organic\nindefinability and multitudinous indefinity, and soareth toward the\ninordinate fulfillment of superconscious metapsychoses.\"\n\nShe of the dimpled and single chin, laid aside her manuscript and stared\nreproachfully at Gud. \"Do you comprehend it?\" she beseeched.\n\n\"Why, certainly. But what does it mean?\" said Gud, who was always\nwilling to increase his knowledge if he could do so without interfering\nwith his previous beliefs.\n\n\"It is a new theory,\" replied the ruby lips, \"of the conquest of\nanatomy. This theory is based on the hypotheses that the organ called\nthe brain is nothing but an adventitous, radio-active tumor that yields\ntwo secretions. The external secretion is what is called the mind and\nthe internal secretion is known as the soul. From this hypothesis there\nfollows the tetravalent truth:\n\n\"All life is anatomy.\n\n\"All anatomy is matter.\n\n\"All matter is nothing.\n\n\"Therefore nothing matters.\"\n\n\"Then why bother about it?\" asked Gud.\n\nBut she did not answer, for her drooping eyes had again sought the open\nbook that lay on her dimpled knees, and her voice whippled and yodeled\nas she read.\n\n\"The immortal soul is destroyed by the psychic spirit.\n\n\"The psychic spirit is destroyed by the mental psyche.\n\n\"The mental psyche is destroyed by the rational mind.\n\n\"The rational mind is destroyed by the common sense.\n\n\"The common sense is destroyed by the emotion.\n\n\"The emotion is destroyed by the instinct.\n\n\"The instinct is destroyed by the physiology.\n\n\"The physiology is destroyed by the anatomy.... How do you like my\neyes?\"\n\n\"Very,\" said Gud, \"for your pupils shine as unborn souls of May-green\nstars floating in the nebulous nonentity.\"\n\nAfter which her butler came to say that Messrs. Confucius and Buddha\nwere calling.\n\n\n\n\nChapter XLIX\n\n\n    We have built our own skyscrapers\n    Out of slender metal girders,\n    We have flung our shining cities,\n    Reaped our harvests from the sod....\n    With our paths of empire crimson\n    From a list of countless murders,\n    We go shrieking down the darkness,\n    Bent on worshipping a god.\n\n\n\n\nChapter L\n\n\nGud came around a bend in the Impossible Curve and lo, the Curve\nbroadened into a great highway which was very smooth. The way had been\nrough before, so Gud now rejoiced and struck his staff gleefully on the\npavement, as he walked on in the middle of the great highway. But ere he\nhad progressed far, there came from behind him an agonizing shriek, as\nof a man being flayed alive because he loved his neighbor's wife.\n\nThe agonizing shriek startled Gud, so that he leaped sideways rather\nspryly--considering that he was not slender. Just as he leaped, a\nchariot rushed by with the speed of light, which is the speed limit. Had\nGud been less spry he would have ended fatally, the chariot would not\nhave stopped, and Gud would have never known what it was. But having\nbeen spry, Gud had leaped almost out of the way; only his staff had been\nknocked from his hand and his elbow broken. Observing the injury done to\nthe pedestrian, the demon who drove the chariot caused its speed to\nabate, and presently it wheeled about and came roaring back to where Gud\nstood, and stopped.\n\nThe demon alighted and said: \"Seems we had a little accident.\"\n\n\"Nay, it feels, I know not seems,\" returned Gud, rubbing his elbow.\n\n\"Pedigreed?\" asked the demon.\n\n\"No, fractured,\" said Gud.\n\n\"Dead, I take it,\" remarked the demon, and he kicked something that lay\nlimp and prone on the highway.\n\nThen Gud observed that the Underdog was dead.\n\n\"How much?\" asked the demon. And before Gud could speak, the demon\npulled out a roll of the medium of exchange and unrolled it and handed\nGud a portion of the medium.\n\nAs Gud had no pockets he put the medium under his girdle and remarked:\n\"If my staff had not been broken, I could revive him.\"\n\n\"A pulmotor would be more likely,\" said the demon; and he went to the\nchariot, brought back an instrument and applied last aid to the\nUnderdog, who presently wagged his tail feebly, opened his eyes and\nwhined piteously.\n\nGud realized that the demon had paid him because the Underdog had been\ndead; and now that Fidu was no longer dead, Gud felt constrained to\nreturn that which the demon had given him.\n\nThereupon the demon looked more gracious and said: \"Where are you\ngoing?\"\n\n\"We were walking for pleasure,\" answered Gud.\n\nAt this foolish reply the demon looked confounded. \"Well I don't see any\npleasure in walking,\" he remarked. \"Better jump in--I'll take you as far\nas Progress. It is just beyond Advertising.\"\n\nSo Gud assumed alacrity, and jumped into the chariot; and the demon\nthrew the Underdog, which was still whining piteously, into the rear of\nthe chariot, and then sat himself beside Gud.\n\nThe demon manipulated many mechanisms skilfully; and the chariot began\nto roar mightily and then to purr contentedly, as the great highway\nslipped beneath it.\n\nGud was pleased with the demon's chariot and sat back on the cushions\nand sighed enviously.\n\nSuddenly the chariot swerved and shrieked its agonizing shriek, and Gud\nsaw a lesser chariot, like unto the demon's chariot but smaller and\nmeaner looking. And the demon smiled scornfully, and said: \"That was a\nLord.\"\n\nAnd they had not gone far after they passed the Lord when they came to a\nsmall place with a great sign: \"SPEED LIMIT THE SPEED OF SOUND.\"\n\nAnd the demon swore balefully, and the powerful chariot heaved and\ngroaned distressingly. Gud looked out upon the way and saw that it was\nrough like a washlady's board, and there were many sharp turns and\ndetours; and at one place there was a sign: \"THIS ROAD TO HIGHWATER.\"\nPresently there was another sign: \"THIS ROAD TO BREAKFAST.\"\n\nGud asked: \"What place is this?\"\n\nJust as he had spoken the chariot reversed its direction so that Gud\ncould see behind it, and there was a sign which read: \"FREE AIR AND GAS\nTO BURN, BUT DON'T ASK FOR WATER.\"\n\nGud was about to ask the meaning of all these strange signs and wonders\nwhen the chariot turned a somersault, and Gud saw another sign being\nwritten on the sky. This was mightier than all, and as Gud read it the\nLord passed beneath them; for the reading of the sign was: \"THIS IS\nHELL.\"\n\nWhen they had passed through Hell the road became smooth again, and the\ndemon smiled and began to burn up the road; and Gud looked into a small\nmirror and could see Hell diminishing according to the law of\nperspective. But of a sudden Hell ceased to be visible, for the demon\nwas angry; and he was exceeding the speed limit, which was the speed of\nlight, and that is why the light of Hell could no longer reach them.\n\nAs there was nothing now to be seen in the rear, Gud looked ahead and\nfound that he could see more than twice as fast as usual, for they were\nmeeting the light that came from that direction at more than its own\nspeed. So Gud saw the tail light of the Lord that had passed them in\nHell. The demon turned on the warning glare to apprize the little Lord\nof his approach, but this action was without avail since they were\nexceeding the speed of light and the glare could not shine fast enough\nto warn the Lord; and so the Lord was unwarned. Then the demon swore\nunjustly and called the Lord \"A way-swine\"; but it availed nothing and\nthe Lord was run down and run over, and left as an empty tin that had\nbeen stepped on by a dinosaur with an iron heel.\n\nAfter they had passed through Advertising and through Alltalk, which was\na suburb of Advertising, they came to Progress and the demon slowed down\nand began to show Gud the town.\n\nThe Underdog had recovered from his injuries and crawled out and stood\non the running board with his fore feet on the front defender and barked\njoyfully, for Progress was a lively enough town and largely made up of\nshow windows and chariot factories.\n\nWhen the demon came to the end of his journey Gud alighted and said:\n\"Much obliged.\"\n\nThe demon said: \"Not at all.\"\n\nThe Underdog jumped from the chariot and ran gleefully up to one who was\nstanding in front of a factory and playing with an enormous horse-power.\n\nGud was jealous when he saw how much the Underdog seemed to love the\nstranger and how much the stranger seemed to love the Underdog, and Gud\nasked the demon who the stranger was. And the demon said: \"Why, that is\nLord, who makes the little Lord chariots. If you won't tell him I ran\nover one, I'll introduce you.\"\n\nSo Gud met Lord, and Lord said: \"I think I make a pretty good chariot.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gud, \"It can pass any chariot in Hell.\"\n\nAfter that Lord excused himself and went into his office to dictate an\narticle on the \"Importance of Eating Pork\"; and Gud was left at the\nmercy of Lord's sales force.\n\nSo Gud went across the street and entered the palatial office of a great\nchariot maker and once inside he was obliged to pledge his honor and his\nname. And when Gud came out of that place he was the proud possessor of\na great chariot with a mild roar.\n\nThey started off and went back toward Hell, for they were headed that\nway and could not turn around. They passed through Hell and went on from\nHell to Breakfast, and the chariot roared beautifully.\n\nThen the price of faith, which the great chariot burned, began to\nincrease at each filling station, and the hope, which smoothed its\nrunning, became full of grit, and the charity on which it rolled began\nto blow up, and the way became rough and the curves became impossible,\neven for a great chariot; and Gud began to wish for a Lord.\n\nBut there was no Lord in sight. Gud tinkered with the great chariot with\npatience, and energized the battery with nerve, but all was of no avail.\n\nSo when a Blackamoor came along on a gray mule, Gud made a bargain and\nexchanged the great chariot for the mule. But Gud recalling the story\nabout the old man and his son and the jackass, Gud threw his animal into\nthe river at once, to avoid criticism.\n\nGud now whistled to the Underdog, and the Underdog harkened to the\nwhistle and followed after Gud, for they were both meek in the humility\nof wisdom.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LI\n\n\nThey had not gone far until Gud was arrested. His thumb print was taken\nand he was cast into jail. As he did not know how to change his thumb\nprint, he wished to know why he had been arrested, in order to judge\nwhether it would be honorable to escape. So he inquired of one of his\nfellow prisoners. And the prisoner listened to Gud's story and made\nanswer: \"You have been arrested because you drove a high-powered chariot\nwithout being possessed of a large amount of money. The catalog of crime\nwhich such a combination engenders is tedious and fulsome.\"\n\n\"But what is the remedy?\" asked Gud, for he did not like to remain a\ncriminal.\n\n\"Money,\" replied the prisoner, \"you should make money. If we could get\nout of this place I would show you how, for I am by trade a\nmoney-maker.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said Gud, and he commanded the walls of the jail to fall\ndown, and he and the money-maker walked out over the fallen walls and\nproceeded to the money-maker's den.\n\nBut Gud soon tired of the tedious process of copper engraving; and going\nout for a stroll about the town he came upon the booth of a\nfortune-teller.\n\n\"I wish you would tell me a fortune,\" said Gud, \"for I am badly in need\nof one.\"\n\n\"But for that I charge money,\" said the fortune-teller.\n\n\"Why?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Because, I know what is going to happen.\"\n\n\"So do I,\" said Gud.\n\n\"Liar!\" cried the fortune-teller. \"If you knew what was going to happen,\nand had any insight whatsoever into future events, you would not be\nstanding idly here, for you would be in the Street.\"\n\n\"Thanks for the suggestion,\" replied Gud, \"I will go there immediately.\"\n\nWhen Gud reached the Street he found many bulls there and bears and\nlambs, and men who were busy watering their stock. And Gud found there\nalso a private secretary who was watching the tape. And Gud said: \"Why\ndo you watch the tape with eager eyes?\"\n\nAnd she answered and said to Gud: \"Because I wish to know what figures\nare on the tape as quickly as any one else.\"\n\n\"And how would you like to know more quickly?\"\n\n\"Indeed,\" she cried, \"if one could, he would soon own the earth.\"\n\n\"It is easy,\" said Gud. \"All you have to do is to read these figures\nbefore they appear instead of afterwards.\"\n\n\"Can you do that?\"\n\n\"Why certainly! It is easy to read the future, if you know how.\"\n\nAnd so Gud showed her how to read the future, and she showed Gud how to\ncash in on the readings, and presently they owned the earth.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LII\n\n\n    He loads the dice, scratches the cards,\n    Hoists us up by our own petards;\n    And when low music thrills the banquet halls,\n    His shadow like a silent spectre falls\n    In grotesque imagery upon the walls.\n\n    A mad child left an empire's might\n    The kingdom of the day and night\n    And as he babbles on the palace floor,\n    He listens to the silver thunder roar\n    Like troubled seas upon some distant shore.\n\n    With froth upon a sensual lip,\n    He sinks in play some crowded ship.\n    Then lightly in an idle mood of mirth\n    As though it were a trinket of no worth\n    Down starry skies he flings some living earth.\n\n    Life's roulette table stops for him\n    To any cackling vagrant whim.\n    His own police are venal, full of doubt;\n    Indeed the cheapest little racetrack tout\n    Knows more what sportsmanship is all about.\n\n    His gold face and his jet black hair\n    The jewels his madness makes him wear.\n    His laws, a madman's irony\n    The moon his mask above the sea\n    Some morning he will turn his vacant eyes\n    And see the sun with jealous new surprise\n    And on the following day it will not rise.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LIII\n\n\nAnd when the last sound had gone howling by and tumbled into the\nbottomless pit of silence, Gud held his breath, and even Fidu ceased to\nbreathe and listened ... and listened for the echo that was still ...\nand it was as quiet as the missing link, as silent as a broken heart, as\nmute as a withered violet in a virgin's dream.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LIV\n\n\nGud had traveled many infinite distances since he had seen any sign of\nmatter or mind or spirits. In this region things were not merely dead!\nthey were absolutely non-existent, and Gud became a trifle lonesome.\n\nHe was in his ghostly incognito, for he always traveled lightly in\nvacuous and doubtful regions. To sojourn as an immaterial spirit among\nmaterial beings gives one a sense of power, for what could be more\nglorious than to see without eyes, hear without ears, ring bells without\nhands or kick over tables without feet? But it is a very dull business\nto journey along as a spirit in absolute nothingness.\n\nIndeed it is a business as dull as a Latin conjugation. So Gud now\nrealized that he was sensing something with his seventh sense, which was\nmore acute than the canine instinct of the Underdog and almost as\nunerring as a woman's intuition.\n\nThis seventh sense told Gud that he had entered a spiritual realm, and\nhe became aware of a black ghost of a white cat with one ghoulish\nunseeing eye, sitting on the shadow of a back fence echoing a diabolical\nhowl.\n\nGud could not hear the ghost cat howl, but he knew that it was howling\nbecause with his seventh sense he felt the vibration of its howl\nquivering through the impalpable and ghostly ether.\n\nThe howl of the ghost cat petrified Gud's gall, for he sensed that the\ncreature had nine notches on its tail; hence would never live again, and\nhad nothing to howl about.\n\nSo Gud picked up a stone and threw it at the ghost cat, but he aimed\nhigh, and the stone, passing through a bush of credulity, killed two\nbirds of promise; whereupon the ghost cat ceased to howl.\n\nAs Gud went on he became aware of ghosts strolling about among the ruins\nof nothing.\n\nAnd Gud said to the ghosts: \"Where is your king?\"\n\nAnd the ghosts replied to Gud: \"We have no king.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Gud, \"I would be told of your form of government.\"\n\nBut the ghosts answered: \"Our government has no form because we have no\ngovernment.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Gud, \"I would meet your doctors or lawyers or great and\nfamous ghosts.\"\n\nAnd they made answer that they had none.\n\n\"Then,\" said Gud, \"I would be told of your religion and learn of your\nfaith.\"\n\nSaid the ghosts: \"We have no religion and no faith, for we are too\nimmaterial to sin; and are therefore without fear of death, and thus\nneed no religion and no faith.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Gud, \"this is a dull place. What do you call it?\"\n\nReplied the ghosts, who had a very long time to live: \"We have no name\nfor the place, but we are very happy here.\"\n\nWhen Gud learned that this place was nameless, he whistled for his\nUnderdog and they went on and passed through an impalpable fog of\netheric vibrations, and over a great gulf of sublimated emptiness, and\nthrough a dark forest of neglected memories, and across a sandless\ndesert swept by a breathless wind.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LV\n\n\n    The graveyard of the gods is silent under a heavy sky,\n    Where all the gods who never lived are buried when they die.\n\n    Pale angels kneel beside the graves, stretching row on row,\n    And madmen carrying mouldy flowers quickly come and go.\n\n    A withered lily in her hand Saint Any-One-At-All,\n    With pale, thin fingers opens the gate in an ivied wall.\n\n    Her face an open wound of wonder, bleeding with defeat,\n    And as she walks, the shining snow crunches under her feet.\n\n    The ghosts of trees reach icy arms up to a starless sky,\n    Mourning the gods who never were that rest here when they die.\n\n    Pale angels kneel beside the graves stretching row on row,\n    And madmen carrying mouldy flowers quickly come and go.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LVI\n\n\nHaving passed through the graveyard of the gods, Gud came to a vast\nbeyond where there really was nothing, when the gods are dead there can\nbe nothing. And so Gud journeyed on, for he would not stop at nothing,\nand he came to a church, because it was Saturday night.\n\nCrouched by the steps of the church was a poor old skeptic begging alms\nof faith.\n\n\"Why do you beg?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Because I have need of faith,\" said the skeptic.\n\n\"If I should give you a great amount of faith, would you use it to\ndestroy your doubts, or would you go out and proclaim it to others, and\nthus give it all away?\"\n\n\"Try me,\" said the skeptic.\n\n\"Then believe that I am Gud.\"\n\n\"I will, if you can prove it to me!\"\n\n\"What proof shall I offer you?\" asked Gud. For while he knew that proof\nwas not necessary to faith, yet he was willing to humor the poor old\nskeptic because he was so weighted down with his burden of doubts.\n\n\"If you be Gud,\" said the skeptic, \"then you should know all things.\"\n\n\"And that I do.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" said the skeptic, \"how mad is a wet hen?\"\n\nWhereupon Gud called down fire from the heaven of that place and smote\nthe blasphemer so that he died.\n\nBut when Gud called down the fire that smote the skeptic, alas, he\ndestroyed the church house also. The next morning when the sun arose,\nbehold the spot where the church had been was a greensward of two-bladed\ngrass. But presently worshippers came and seated themselves upon the\ngrass and lifted up their eyes in prayer.\n\nGud did not wait to see who answered their prayers, for he had gone on\ninto a realm where the nights are as cold as greed, and where little\nstars are born--and comets, like tadpoles, lose their tails, and burst\ninto shining suns.\n\nAnd yet again Gud passed on beyond all stars and on and on until he\nreached the limits of thoughts, beyond which were only dim traces of\nimagination. And passing still on and ever on he came to a place where\nonly the hope of faith abides, and lo, he was confronted here with a\ngreat wall of light.\n\nAnd Gud knew--for he still knew all things--that this wall of light was\nthe great and mighty wall that flings its shining reaches round about\nthe City of the Forgotten Ghosts. These ghosts feared that dark\nmemories, which were their only enemies, might find them out, so they\nhad builded this mighty wall of light about their ghostly city.\n\nBut those who know all things need stop at nothing, and Gud, first\ncasting off all memories that clung about him, kneeled down beside the\nwall of light and rubbed a little ring of pale intrusion. And behold a\ndoor of darkness opened in the wall of light. Gud arose and passed\nthrough the door of darkness in the wall of light. When he had passed\nthrough, the door of darkness closed behind him, and, having revoked all\nmemories, Gud could not recall that it had been.\n\nAs Gud now journeyed through the outer environs of the City of the\nForgotten Ghosts, he rejoiced to become aware that these were holy\nghosts--for behold the way was lined with the shadows of ten thousand\ncrosses whereon hung ten thousand crucified ghosts.\n\nSeeing that he was among friends, Gud decided to tarry yet a little\nwhile.\n\nHe was very much interested to learn that the inhabitants of this realm\nwere not merely the spiritual leftovers of deceased material beings, but\nwere true ghosts who had always been ghosts. This fact puzzled Gud, but\nthere was no doubt about its authenticity, for the ghosts had a\nrevelation that testified to their purely ghostly origin.\n\nAll the ghosts accepted this revelation of their origin, but there were\ndifferences of opinion as to their destination. Having an honest\ndifference of opinion about an unknowable matter, there was, of course,\nample justification for the ten thousand crucified ghosts that hung on\nthe shadows of crosses.\n\nAmong these ghosts, who were so positive about their origin and so\nuncertain about their destiny, there were two sects: the Spiritualists\nand the Materialists. The Spiritualists, knowing that they had always\nbeen spirits, argued that they would always remain spirits. But the\nMaterialists decried this pessimistic faith and held forth a great hope\nthat if they adhered to all the platitudes they would have the pleasure\nof shuffling off the immortal coil and being reborn as material beings.\n\nIt was the tenets of this sect that Gud espoused, for he admired the\nfaith of these mere ghosts who had never sensed matter, and yet had\nlifted up their eyes in the hope of material life.\n\nWith his experience in such affairs Gud readily assumed the role of a\nprophet of this Materialistic faith. But it is not sufficient merely to\ncall the righteous to repentance, and Gud indulged his imagination to\nthink of some way to impress the skeptical Spiritualists with the truth\nof the Materialist faith.\n\nIt was Fidu who gave Gud the idea for the great miracle, for Fidu had\nremained close to his master, both of course, in their spiritual beings.\n\nThe ghosts were not aware that Fidu was among them, and not being\nfamiliar with dogs they walked right through him, ignoring the poor\nbeast quite utterly, which was very humiliating to Fidu.\n\nSo Gud, in sympathy with the Underdog's humiliation, conceived of a\ngreat idea, and he called the leaders of the Materialist sect together\nand asked: \"Have any of you ever sensed a material being?\"\n\n\"No!\" answered they, \"we have never sensed matter, which is why we have\nfaith in its existence.\"\n\n\"True,\" said Gud, \"enough for the faithful, but these infidels, some of\nwhom you neglected to crucify, have not faith without works. Let us\ntherefore create a material being wherewith to confound them.\"\n\n\"And of what will you create a material being?\"\n\n\"I usually create things out of nothing,\" answered Gud.\n\n\"But Master,\" cried the Ghosts, \"we have very little of nothing. How\nmuch would it take?\"\n\n\"It will suffice,\" said Gud, and he whistled to Fidu and straightway\nmaterialized him.\n\nA real live dog weighing about twenty-seven pounds, running around\nthrough the ghosts, made quite a sensation; and it greatly delighted\nthose of the Materialist faith and converted most of the Spiritualists.\n\nGud thought for a time he had converted all the infidels and skeptics in\nthe realm to the true faith, but he later found that there was one\nlittle band upon whom the materialization of Fidu had made no\nimpression. This sect denied the spiritual existence that they were\nliving, and taught that there was no such a thing as the spirit, but\nthat all was matter.\n\nGud could not understand why this sect should call themselves\nMaterio-Spiritists, since they were certainly not Spiritualists, as they\ndenied the existence of spirit--and yet they were not Materialists, for\nthey did not believe in matter as matter, but in spirit as matter.\n\nThese Materio-Spiritists were not impressed by the miracle Gud had\nwrought in the interest of the orthodox Materialist faith. They believed\nthat all was matter, yet they did not recognize matter when they met it\nin the road. They denied the matter-of-fact Fidu, and said he was only\nan illusion of the non-existent spiritual mind and hence could have no\nexistence, material or immaterial.\n\nEven when Gud took the material dog to their place of worship and had\nhim bark at the service, they still argued that the material Fidu was\nnon-existent.\n\nGud was a little crest-fallen at his inability to convert the\nMaterio-Spiritists, and yet the more he argued with them, the more\ndoubtful he became of his own convictions. In fact, he became so\nconfounded that he forgot what his convictions were, and was not sure\nwhether he was a ghost or not, or whether the material dog was real or\nimaginary.\n\nFinally, to settle his doubts, Gud decided to kill all the ghosts and\nsee whether they would be reborn as material beings or disappear\naltogether. When he proclaimed his intention there was much rejoicing in\nthe ranks of the Materialists, who thus saw the fulfillment of their\nfaith.\n\nAs the day of the spiritual death approached there was a great revival\nof faith, and much repentance and divers preparation to assume the\nmaterial role.\n\nGud was a little puzzled as to how to kill so many ghosts at once.\nEarthquakes and floods and all that sort of thing were clearly\ninadequate, but he recalled that the crowing of a cock was very\ndestructive to ghostly life. So he sent Fidu back to the last material\nrealm they had passed, to retrieve a cock which could crow most lustily.\n\nThe cock arrived amid a vast darkness, and Gud prepared a great light,\nat the sight of which the cock crew mightily--and every ghost died of\nfright.\n\nAs the cock was pedigreed, Gud sent Fidu back to restore it to its\nowner, while he sat himself down to wait for the appearance of the\nmaterial beings.\n\nNone appeared.\n\nAfter a while Gud grew tired of waiting.\n\nThe place was very still and very dark for the wall of light was dark on\nthe inside. In spite of his own ghostly being Gud found that he was\ngetting nervous. He had creepy sensations up and down his spine--\n\nThis is a flunk. Ghosts of the ghosts are too much for my imagination.\nIt was Hersey's idea anyway. When you kill a ghost, of course you would\nhave a ghost of a ghost to take its place, and one ought to be able to\nimagine it. But if you kill that, then you should have the ghost of a\nghost of a ghost, and that is straining the imagination to its cracking\npoint. And if you kill that then you should have the ghost of a ghost of\na ghost of a ghost--et cetera, ad infinitum, to the Nth expansion--me\nfor Einstein and his warped light.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LVII\n\n\nAs Gud strolled along trying to forget the past he stumbled over the\nsoul of an old blind ghost who was sitting on a petrified memory and\nsentimentalizing over her woes.\n\n\"Pardon me,\" said Gud, \"but why are you so blind that I could not see\nyou?\"\n\n\"I am blind,\" replied the old soul, \"because I strained my eyes out\nlooking at the moving pictures, and now I am very miserable because I\ncan not see them.\"\n\n\"Oh, if that is all,\" answered Gud, \"I will restore your sight. It will\ncost you nothing but a little praise and gratitude.\"\n\nWhen the old soul received her sight she looked around the barren astral\nlandscape and was sorely disappointed, for there were no moving pictures\nthere; and she complained bitterly in her disappointment.\n\n\"I could make a motion picture for you if you would tell me how,\"\noffered Gud.\n\n\"That I will do gladly,\" cried the old soul, \"but first you must have an\nauthor to write the scenario.\"\n\n\"That is easy,\" replied Gud. \"There--I have created one. Speak to her,\nauthor, for the poor old soul was blind.\"\n\n\"So I see,\" answered the author, as he extracted a cigarette. \"And she\nwants a story, I take it; but she has been blind and is probably\nilliterate, and can not read, and I never tell my stories as poets\nrecite their verses--it is bad taste, you know.\"\n\n\"I will restore her literacy,\" offered Gud, who was in a miraculous\nmood, \"and then she can read.\"\n\n\"It would be doing me no good,\" sighed the old soul, \"for even if I\ncould read the directions on patent medicine bottles because they are\nprinted in so many languages, yet I could never read fiction stories on\naccount of the quotation marks, and it's the pictures I want anyway.\"\n\n\"Oh, pictures,\" said the author, as he ignited his cigarette, \"now that\nis a different matter; I create stories for the love of art, but moving\npictures can not be created for the love of art, for there is no art in\nthem to love.\"\n\n\"Since we are both creators,\" said Gud, \"I don't like to dictate to you,\nso suppose we compromise. You write a poem for art's sake--as there is\nno other excuse for writing one--but put it in the form of a scenario.\"\n\n\"Now that is what I call clever!\" exclaimed the author, and he whipped\nout his Corona and wrote the scenario forthwith.\n\nWhat it was you shall never know, for movie scenarios could never get by\nheavenly censors without mutilation, and when the censors had done with\nthis one there remained not even the mutilation. However, the author\nread it to the old soul.\n\n\"That is a fine scenario,\" cried she to Gud, \"but you will have to make\na director to make the picture out of the scenario.\"\n\nSo Gud made a director. He had never made one before but they are easily\nmade, as they can be made out of most anything.\n\n\"Well, I see we have the scenario,\" remarked the director, when Gud had\nfinished making him, \"but it hasn't the proper ending.\"\n\n\"I am sorry,\" said the author, \"but I didn't write a proper ending as I\nknew you would use your own anyway.\"\n\n\"I know his ending,\" cried the ugly old soul, \"and it is very\nbeautiful--it's the one where--\"\n\n\"Shut up, you old fool,\" bawled the director, \"don't you know you will\nspoil the suspense by telling the audience how it is going to end?\"\n\n\"But in this case we have a real plot,\" said the author, \"and it ought\nnot to be mutilated--\"\n\n\"Shut up, you conceited pup,\" howled the director, \"and here, take your\nscenario and have it printed if you like. I don't need it anyway.\"\n\nAnd so the author took the scenario and folded it and put it in his\ninside pocket and walked away, inhaling angrily on his last cigarette.\n\n\"Now,\" spoke the director, \"as that infernal ass is gone we can get\nbusy.\"\n\n\"What can I do?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Make the cast for me, pick out the sets and rig the props. But first I\nmust have six beautiful girls. It is going to be an all-star cast and I\nwant each of them as beautiful as she can be, yet distinctive, so the\naudience can tell which is which.\"\n\nSo Gud made six girls, all as beautiful as they could be, and yet all as\ndifferent as wives are from concubines.\n\n\"Fine,\" exclaimed the director, as he pawed them over affectionately.\n\n\"I love you,\" said the girl with the Cupid's bow mouth.\n\n\"I loved him first,\" spoke the girl with the sorrowful eyes.\n\n\"But I love him most,\" cried the girl with the angel-child curls.\n\n\"But I love him like the flower loves the dew,\" wailed the girl with the\nhuman form divine.\n\n\"But I love him so that I could die for him,\" sobbed the girl with the\nvery tender heart.\n\n\"Then die,\" shrieked the old-fashioned vampire, as she plunged a dagger\ninto the very tender heart.\n\nAll the girls brought orange blossoms and laid them on the coffin and\nwept much in each other's arms, and the director renounced his\nprofessional ambitions and went back to his old job as market reporter\non an undertaker's weekly.\n\n\"Oh, thank you so much,\" spoke the ugly old soul to Gud.\n\n\"For what?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"For the beautiful sentiments of the picture,\" she replied.\n\n\"But that wasn't a picture,\" corrected Gud, \"that was reality.\"\n\n\"What are you saying?\" queried the old soul, \"I was blind, you know, and\ndidn't hear very well either.\"\n\n\"Oh, nothing,\" said Gud. \"I am glad you enjoyed it.\" For he saw that she\nhad taken reality for romance, which is a far more beautiful illusion\nthan taking romance for reality. So Gud went quietly on his way.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LVIII\n\n\nAnd Gud overtook a thief who had stolen an ocean and loaded it into a\nwagon which he had hitched to a star. The thief was making a poor\ngetaway, for the wagon was leaking badly and was dropping clues at every\nstep.\n\nTo avoid being drowned in the drippings, Gud turned into an unexplored\ndimension, but before he could get his bearings he was run down by an\ninsane comet collector, who was madly chasing a comet that was buzzing\ndangerously near an incandescent sun--so hot that its nearest molecules\nwere farther apart than the hearts of a bigamist's wives.\n\nTo avoid the net of the comet collector Gud hid himself in an ethereal\ncavern. There he found a spiritual paleontologist at work reconstructing\nextinct souls from the merest fossil fragments.\n\nGud picked up a tiny fragment and asked the paleontologist what manner\nof soul it had been.\n\nThe paleontologist scrutinized it through his confounded monocle and\nreplied: \"It is a bit of ectoplasm from the soul of a woman killed by\ncuriosity. She was forever asking her lovers, 'How much do you love\nme?'\"\n\nThe paleontologist now reached up to a geometrical plane and brought\ndown another small fossil. \"Observe,\" said he, \"the marking on this\nother bit of petrified ectoplasm, and note how the two differ.\"\n\n\"Yes, I see,\" said Gud, \"what is that one?\"\n\n\"That,\" replied the paleontologist, \"is a fragment of the aura of a\nwoman who wished to be loved for herself alone.\"\n\n\"It is very interesting,\" agreed Gud, \"but tell me why those two\ncompleted models on the nebulous shelf behind you look so\nargumentative.\"\n\n\"Ah,\" said the paleontologist, \"they are the pride of my collection,\nbeing the reconstruction of two friendly enemies. One was the soul of a\ndeist and the other the soul of an atheist, and they argued and argued\nthrough one eternity after another. They argued not wisely but too well,\nfor each finally converted the other, and the deist became an atheist\nand the atheist became a deist. Then they started arguing all over\nagain. But before the atheist who had become a deist could convert the\ndeist who had become an atheist back to deism, or the deist who had\nbecome an atheist could convert the atheist who had become a deist back\nto atheism, the astral plane was rotated into a cosmic epizoid,\nresulting in a cataclysm that buried these two poor souls in an\navalanche of metaphysical debris which was stratified under the radiant\npressure, just as we find it here.\"\n\n\"It is very wonderful,\" said Gud, \"but why do you probe into secrets of\nthe dead past when there are so many living souls existing in poverty of\nhopes or a sorrow of memories?\"\n\nThe paleontologist removed the confounded monocle from his eye, and\nwiped the lens with a bit of chamois skin.\n\n\"I am no base utilitarian,\" said he, \"but a pure scientist seeking truth\nfor truth's sake.\"\n\n\"Well,\" said Gud, \"a good deal of it isn't worth seeking for any other\nreason. Do you know I have often wondered what any one would do with all\nthe truth if he did find it--for my part I have never been able to make\nuse of half I possessed.\"\n\n\"But you misunderstand the aims of pure science. We scientists have no\nuse for truth either, after we have found it; but the search for truth\nraises us above the base utilitarian.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" said Gud, \"pure science is all right in its place, but you wipe\nthe lens of your confounded monocle with a chamois skin, and how could\none get chamois skin unless there were farmers and butchers and skinners\nand tanners to farm, butcher, skin and tan the chamois?\"\n\n\"Mere hewers of wood and drawers of water,\" repeated the pure scientist\nwith disdain, \"let them serve truth and searchers after truth; for\nknowledge is power and the truth shall make us free.\"\n\n\"Free of what?\" asked Gud.\n\nBut the paleontologist did not answer, for he had spied another bit of\nfossilized ectoplasm and was readjusting his confounded monocle so that\nhe might examine it, to see if it were part of the fragment of the soul\nof the infant prodigy who had mastered calculus before it cut its canine\nteeth, or merely another piece of that soul of the man who had gone\nspiritually to pieces when he met his fame.\n\nAlas, it was neither but something worse, and so Gud asked what it was.\n\n\"It is the fragment,\" replied the paleontologist, \"of the soul of an old\nmaid who committed suicide because she could not live in eternal doubt.\"\n\n\"And what did she doubt?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Her virtue.\"\n\n\"And why did she doubt that?\"\n\n\"Because she suffered from a dual personality complicated by amnesia.\"\n\n\"Oh, I see,\" said Gud, \"she wanted to know how the other half lived.\"\n\n\"No, no,\" protested the fossil collector, \"she was not a sociologist but\none of the minor female poets who specialize in ballads in the romantic\nmanner. See, here is one of her manuscripts that she had translated so\nthat she could take it with her.\"\n\n\"Translated into what?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Into spirit language,\" said the paleontologist, \"and if you read it you\nwill see for yourself how very spiritual it is.\"\n\nGud took the poem and glanced at the first line. \"Pardon me,\" he said,\n\"but is there a graveyard handy?\"\n\n\"As you should judge for yourself,\" replied the paleontologist, \"from\nthe number of bones I have been digging up, this place itself was once a\ngraveyard.\"\n\n\"All things that were can be again,\" said Gud, as he turned back the\nwheel of time until he came into the graveyard as it was in the days of\nits prosperity.\n\nSeeing that he was in the respectable part of the graveyard, Gud\nhastened to walk down the hill to the less respectable portion.\nExperience had taught him that in the part of a graveyard where rich men\nare buried he was likely to be annoyed by relatives who felt they had\nbeen cheated in the wills and were anxious to have resurrections\nperformed.\n\nAs Gud strolled through the disreputable portion of the cemetery he came\nupon a man who was sitting on a grave and weeping bitterly.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LIX\n\n\n    The Gods of the Gallows ride tonight\n    Their shadowy faces spotted white.\n    The creature who watches through the bars\n    Hears every footfall under the stars.\n    The gods of the gallows need no rest--\n    They ride like chieftains--twelve abreast.\n    And now they have vanished, leaving hope,\n    And a thing that hangs at the end of a rope.\n\n    Under the lattice a rosebud trembles, a rosebud trembles gently....\n    Under the trees the shadows fall\n    In a silver pool by the garden wall;\n    Then here and there among the trees\n    Wind whispers rouse low litanies.\n    Like tiny voices of tongueless grief\n    That stir the silence of every leaf.\n    And who would know that under the lattice, under the lattice window,\n    Where the rosebud stirred like a startled fawn,\n    Two hands are creeping up the wall,\n    Two hands that are slim and white and small?\n    And who can hear the lattice open, the lattice open gently?\n    Now over the lip of the window sill,\n    A rustle of silks, the lattice closes,\n    No one has heard, the night is still,\n    Save unblossomed buds of the startled roses.\n    Yet were attentive ears to hearken: enemy ears to listen\n    Far off, far off, where the white road bends,\n    And the upturned cup of the blue sky ends,\n    They might have heard a horse's hoofs\n    Go clickity, clickity, clickity hack, clickity hack, clickity ...\n      clickity ... clickity ... hack\n    Wisely wondered why late at night\n    So speedy a horseman rode its back....\n    Then the echo dimmed at the edge of a wood,\n    And the sound and the horse were gone for good.\n    The creature who watches through the bars\n    Heard every footfall under the stars.\n\n    Beside the doorway of his cell\n    Imprisoned in that iron hell,\n    He taunted the guards of the King--the King's own guards they were--\n    With scarlet breeches and purple coats,\n    Shining buckles upon their boots.\n    He taunted them with sneering jests.\n    He sneered at the medals on their breasts;\n    Laughed in the haughty captain's face,\n    Cut short the chaplain's plea for grace,\n    And hummed the popular air of the day\n    When they read the sentence, and bade him pray.\n\n    \"I promised her at our final tryst,\n    When our aching bodies clung and kissed,\n    That come what may, no matter when\n    I should see her to tell her I love her again.\"\n\n    And he laughed through the bars\n    In a redcoat's face,\n\n    Then he looked through the window\n    Up at the stars,\n    And saw that the dawn was taking place.\n    I'll be returning ere the dusk is down,\n    I'll be returning....\n    Wait for me!\n    I'll be returning though life claims\n    Allegiance under lying rames.\n\n    This was the song he sang for her--for her this song he sang.\n\n    So there by the pool where the rose leaves drift.\n    She waited knowing the dawn was near,\n    And when she saw the shadows lift\n    And all the skies turn deep and clear,\n    She fled to her room--he had not come.\n    They dared not speak to her of him,\n    Her mother, her sister--aye, any of them.\n    For her face was carven out of stone\n    And her little lips made moan, made moan.\n\n    Yet late that night when the house was still\n    She heard a horse ride over the hill.\n    \"It is he, it is he,\" her heart sang sweet.\n    Then out of the window climbed to meet\n    The lover who made her hot heart beat.\n    Yes there he was with his handsome head,\n    And now the same dear things he said\n    As he drew close with a sweep of his arm.\n    The gods of the gallows need no rest--\n    They ride like chieftains twelve abreast.\n\n    One flower touched as she fluttered by,\n    Swung on its stem,\n    And one bright star in the purple sky\n    Shone over them.\n    And what he said, it matters not,\n    Nor what she said to him.\n    And he stopped to listen like one who is stirred;\n    His horse even hearkened, as though he heard.\n    For down the road there came abreast\n    Twelve men in ancient armor dressed.\n    There was something strange in the way they rode;\n    There was something odd in their manners.\n    They did not see the lovers there,\n    Nor heed the house at all,\n    But they rode like mad their horses backs....\n    Rode through the solid wall.\n    When she had opened her frightened eyes\n    What was her pitiful heart's surprise\n    To find him gone\n    And the yellow dawn\n    A roaring flame in the new day's skies.\n\n    And now they have vanished leaving hope,\n    And a thing that hangs at the end of a rope.\n\n    They found her there\n    In a little heap\n    As though she had walked\n    In her lilied sleep.\n    And they never knew,\n    Though her mother said:\n    \"It's a pity, so,\n    With her lover dead\n    On the gallows' tree\n    Three days ago....\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter LX\n\n\n\"Why do you weep?\" asked Gud, \"since most of these dead ones will go to\nHell anyway.\"\n\nThe man did not answer but kept on weeping. So Gud paused to read the\nepitaph on the tombstone of the grave on which the man was sitting. The\ninscription was: \"IN THIS GRAVE LIE THE DAMNED SOULS OF UNBAPTIZED\nBABES.\"\n\n\"Come,\" said Gud, shaking the weeping man by the shoulder. \"If your\nchild wasn't baptized it ought to be damned, but there is no use weeping\nabout it.\"\n\n\"I never had a child,\" said the man, \"but if I were going to have one, I\nwould take no chances, for I would call the priest before I sent for the\ndoctor.\"\n\n\"Then why are you weeping?\" repeated Gud.\n\n\"Not over the contents of this grave, I assure you, but because of the\ncontents of that grave there by the creek's edge.\"\n\n\"Is a relative of yours buried there?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"He was no relative of mine,\" said the man. \"And yet I am weeping\nbecause he is dead, and you would weep, too, if you were in my boots.\nYou see, I am the hangman and I hanged that man only a fortnight ago.\"\n\n\"Ah, ha!\" said Gud, \"you hanged an innocent man!\"\n\n\"Indeed I did not! And if I wept over every innocent man I have hanged,\nI would never have time to clean the scaffold. But I hanged that man for\na petty crime that was never committed.\"\n\n\"And you weep?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"I weep,\" said the hangman, \"because since I hanged him, we have\ndiscovered that he was guilty of a great crime for which I hanged\nanother man a year ago.\"\n\n\"Then you are weeping for the other man?\"\n\n\"No, no!\" retorted the hangman, growing quite angry, \"I am weeping\nbecause, having hanged this man for a petty crime which was never\ncommitted, I cannot hang him now for I have already hanged the other\nman.\"\n\n\"At last I understand,\" said Gud, greatly relieved, \"and I think I can\nhelp you out. Go get your rope and call your citizens!\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXI\n\n\nAs he was sitting one night by a campfire waiting for the beans to boil,\nGud picked up a newspaper. Glancing over the advertisements, his eye\nfell on this item:\n\n     PARTNER WANTED: Fine opportunity for experienced deity to share\n     control of fully evolved world. Will call at any address to\n     give details.--I. B. DEVIL.\n\nThis interested Gud, for his vacation was getting irksome. So he called\nFidu and let him sniff the advertisement and said: \"Go get him!\"\n\nFidu immediately hit the trail through the great darkness, baying\nbeautifully.\n\nWhen the Underdog returned there followed at his heels a handsome Devil.\n\nGud shook hands with his caller and, removing the pot of beans from the\nhot rocks in the center of the fire, asked him to be seated.\n\nThe Devil, throwing off his cape, sat down in the flames and poked his\nfeet comfortably into the glowing coals.\n\n\"You are very considerate,\" said the Devil, as he took out his pipe and\nfilled the bowl with brimstone; \"most fellows of your ilk would let me\nshiver or make me start my own fire.\"\n\n\"Don't mention it,\" said Gud. \"You have, I believe, a partnership\nproposition.\"\n\n\"That I have,\" returned the Devil, \"but first may I ask how you came to\nbe out of employment?\"\n\n\"I smashed everything,\" explained Gud, \"and quit business. The place got\ntoo big to be handled easily and I couldn't get efficient help. I\nthought I would retire, or at least take a long vacation; but you know\nhow that goes, we are all creatures of habit.\"\n\n\"Yes,\" agreed the Devil, \"many of us are like that. We try to do too\nmuch, and get discouraged and throw up everything. However, I have\nalways been a hard worker and rather liked it.\"\n\n\"But you are out of a job now,\" said Gud significantly, \"and before I\ncan talk business I will have to know why.\"\n\n\"Certainly,\" said the Devil, \"I am out of employment for the very\nexcellent reason that my god died.\"\n\n\"What! You don't mean it?\"\n\n\"Why not? You fellows don't want to take your immortality too seriously.\nIt's a necessary pose, of course, as a matter of business; but you see\nmy god was really very old. He had a premonition, too, and very\nthoughtfully left me a letter of recommendation. Would you like to see\nit?\"\n\n\"Thanks, but I never look at letters of recommendation. I have written\ntoo many of them. But tell me about this death of your employer.\"\n\n\"My partner, you mean,\" corrected the Devil. \"Of course, I was only the\njunior partner, but I had a share in the loot. As I said, this chap was\nold and had won and lost many realms. I was with him on his final\nventure, running a hell as usual, and a purgatory on the side--the heavy\nend of the job, I call it, on that three-realm theology. This old god\nhad nothing to do but sit up there surrounded by his angels--yes, he\nreally had angels, old-fashioned place, you know--and wait for the\nresurrection when I was to deliver up his share of the loot from\npurgatory, and the Chief Arch was to blast the sleepers out of their\ngraves.\"\n\n\"That's a bit muddled,\" remarked Gud.\n\n\"I grant it, but we had it arranged that way. Well, we got everything\nready and I turned the crowd out of purgatory as per agreement; and the\nArch blasted out the sleeping souls, and they all went trooping into\nheaven, demanding to see their god.\n\n\"It was a sorry affair, all those countless souls who had lived and\ndied, and some of them had suffered in purgatory for eons. And finally\nthey came trooping into heaven and no god in sight.\n\n\"They sent an angel down for me, for the situation was beyond those harp\nplaying satellites. I found that the old god had died peacefully in his\nsleep, leaving the letter for me and a proper will drawn up, but he was\ndead.\n\n\"I fixed up a double and set him on the throne to keep the crowd quiet\nwhile I stood behind a screen to prompt him. But some disgruntled little\nwing flapper betrayed us and the fraud got out. The crowd stopped\nsquabbling about their gowns and harps, and dropped their hymn books and\nstared up at us.\n\n\"It makes me sad yet when I think about it. I have roasted them and\nflayed them and boiled them without mercy; all that was nothing like\nseeing the disappointed expression in the eyes of those poor souls, all\narrayed in their new celestial gowns and with harps in hand, staring\nlike little lost children up at a dummy on the throne, and wailing\nbecause their god was dead!\"\n\n\"When did all this happen?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"A long while ago--like you, I've been on a vacation. The fact was that\nexperience gave me a distaste for my profession. But you know how it is.\nWe are all creatures of habit, as you say, and there are ups and downs\nin all business. I feel now that it is about time I got back to\nwork--especially since I discovered this virgin world. With that we can\nstart all over, everything new, all our experience to help us, and the\nlikelihood of good luck this time by the law of averages.\"\n\n\"Right you are,\" agreed Gud, \"there is nothing like work. A shoemaker\nshould stick to his last and die with his hammer in his hand. Yes, I\nthink I will consider your proposition. Where is this property you speak\nof?\"\n\n\"In the eighth plane.\"\n\n\"The eighth plane!\" repeated Gud incredulously. \"My dear fellow, there\nare only seven planes!\"\n\n\"That's just it; it's being in a place where it could not be explains\nwhy it is still there.\"\n\n\"A fascinating tale,\" said Gud dubiously, \"but how can mortals stay\nrational and civilized if they do not know that we exist, or that there\nare immortal joys and torments awaiting for them after they are through\nwith their brief span of mortality?\"\n\n\"Now I can't answer that question as to theory, but I can report my\nobservation of the fact that they manage it very decently well.\"\n\n\"It seems incredible to me,\" sighed Gud.\n\n\"It doesn't to me,\" replied the Devil, \"for if I were mortal I would\nsurely make the best of the life I had instead of pining and worrying\nabout another, which, as you know for yourself, is never quite up to\nmortal expectations.\"\n\nThe Devil knocked the ash out of the bowl of his pipe on one of the\nglowing rocks. \"Naturally we haven't as much interest as you have in\nkeeping the superstition alive, since we have the dirty end of the deal.\nBut you know very well that you can't do business without us. It has\nbeen repeatedly demonstrated that mortals quickly lose interest in those\none-sided theologies which, like their own Utopias, are insipid with\nperfect goodness and boresome with joy. What pleasure could there be in\nhoping to go to an eternal sunparlor without knowing that one's neighbor\nwas going to hell?\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I grant that argument, but this virgin world of yours is\nhardly plausible.\"\n\n\"Holy comets!\" exclaimed the Devil, springing up angrily, \"do you doubt\nmy observation or my veracity?\"\n\n\"Both,\" said Gud.\n\n\"We are wasting words. If you will step this way you can see for\nyourself.\"\n\n\"Just a moment,\" said Gud, who then arose and set the pot back on the\nhot rocks, and commanded Fidu to tend the fire and not to spill the\nbeans.\n\n\"Watch your step,\" called back the Devil. \"There are some ugly holes in\nthe void beyond the seventh plane.\"\n\n\"How is that for a sphere?\" spoke the Devil as he pointed out his find.\n\n\"Not half bad,\" admitted Gud, \"but it's a little flat at the poles.\nStrictly speaking, it is a spheroid.\"\n\n\"Don't quibble over details. And now, if you don't mind, I'll\nmaterialize as a prosperous gentleman and you can be my cane-bearer.\"\n\n\"Not on your smoke,\" retorted Gud, \"you advertised for a partner. We\nmaterialize as equals or we stop right here.\"\n\n\"Have it your way. I'll be a king in exile, and you can be a bricklayer\non strike.\"\n\nSo in that guise they stepped aboard, taking care to alight on the north\npole to avoid the chance of an ugly fall.\n\n\"Which way, now?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"South. We must obey their natural laws.\"\n\nSo they traveled south to the equator, passing along the seashore where\nthe thriving cities were. As Gud walked along between the Devil and the\ndeep blue sea he saw many things that were never intended for him to\nsee.\n\n\"Now,\" said the Devil, \"we have seen the northern hemisphere, and the\nsouthern one is just like it.\"\n\n\"I am quite interested,\" admitted Gud.\n\n\"Then let us step up the side of this volcano where we can both be\ncomfortable while we close our deal.\"\n\nSo they climbed the volcano and the Devil found a seat on a heap of\nfreshly crusted lava, and Gud sat down on a nearby glacier.\n\n\"First,\" began the Devil, \"I would ask you if they had any souls?\"\n\n\"Not a soul,\" admitted Gud. \"One could see it in their eyes.\"\n\n\"And what about evidence of proprietorship?\"\n\nGud picked up a rock and examined it critically. \"I see no evidence of\ndesign,\" he confessed.\n\n\"And how about their rationality?\"\n\n\"That's what worries me. They are entirely too rational. If we try to\ngive them souls they might reject them.\"\n\n\"I can solve that,\" laughed the Devil. \"Give the souls to the females\nfirst.\"\n\n\"What!\" exclaimed Gud, \"that has never been heard of. To give them all\nsouls at once is quite as radical a move as I could consider.\"\n\n\"Well, I won't quibble over details. How long will it take you to fix up\nyour pace?\"\n\n\"I should say it would take me an eon.\"\n\n\"Make it an epoch.\"\n\n\"Oh, very well.\"\n\n\"And how do you propose to divide the booty? Would you be satisfied with\npredestination on a fifty-fifty split?\"\n\n\"I would not,\" returned Gud decisively. \"I consider such collusion to\nsuppress competition most unprofessional. I will give them a revelation,\nyou can plant seeds of doubt and temptation, and we will divide on the\nusual tests of faith.\"\n\n\"But what about those that pass over without hearing the revelation?\"\n\n\"I get them on the mercy clause,\" said Gud.\n\n\"That's too liberal,\" replied the Devil, \"and you know it; they belong\nto me by right of original sin. If you insist on taking them we will\ncall the whole deal off.\"\n\n\"Let's compromise on transmigration and reincarnate them till they do\nhear my revelation. It will mean quite a saving in the stock of new\nsouls, for we will have to buy them. I was never good at designing\nhome-made souls; I could never get them of even size, and the big ones\nwere always knocking the little ones about.\"\n\n\"Very well,\" agreed the Devil, who was anxious to get going. \"Order the\nsouls when you get ready.\"\n\nJust then the volcano conveniently erupted and dematerialized the king\nin exile and the bricklayer on strike.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXII\n\n\n    Once Gud sat all alone\n    High on his shining throne.\n    The Devil had been driven\n    Flaming out of heaven;\n    And this was eons after\n    Gud suddenly burst with laughter,\n    Remembering with a shout\n    A story the Devil told\n    Before they drove him out--\n    (Though even then 'twas old)\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXIII\n\n\nI. B. Devil paced restlessly about in his brand new Hell. Everything was\nrunning in apple pie order, but not a soul in torment. That fact worried\nhim, for it had been nearly two generations since Gud had planted the\nsouls. He had done it well, had plunged the busy sphere into a day of\nthick darkness. There had been a mad howling and babble among the\nconceited rationals until the whole race of them had tumbled in their\ntracks and fallen into a profound slumber. It was then that the souls\nwere planted.\n\nOne of Gud's newly employed assistants had made the count of the\nmortals, and the Devil had marvelled at his accuracy, for there were\nonly six souls left over. These Gud had laughingly handed to the Devil,\nwho had given them to six of his firemen--appreciative chaps they were,\nand it hadn't spoiled them, this thing of having two souls.\n\nAfter the soul planting was finished, the Devil and Gud had parted\ncordially enough. They had agreed it was best not to be seen together\nafter that. By the agreement Gud was first to visit the sphere alone and\ngive out his revelation, and the Devil was then to make one visit to sow\ndoubts and temptations.\n\nThe Devil had glanced at Gud's revelation most casually; it seemed quite\nordinary--old stuff, and he had been rather careless in planting his\ndoubts and temptations. The competition had looked easy. But now two\ngenerations had passed on the sphere and not a soul had arrived for\ntorment.\n\nThe Devil was profoundly puzzled. He wondered if Gud had been unethical\nand double-crossed him with a spurious revelation, getting out another\none later with utterly different beliefs and morals, so that the doubts\nand temptations were thus all obsoleted. This possibility made the Devil\nfurious, for it was plausible enough--yet that Gud chap had seemed such\na fair and simple sort!\n\nHalf a dozen times the Devil started to go up and see about it--yet, had\nhe not pledged his own incombustibility on his keeping away from the\nsphere after the first visit? He had been a simple fool, and here he was\nwith a fully equipped hell on his hands and a big payroll to meet and\nthe best of his helpers deserting right and left, because they were\nbored with idleness. As good a hell as ever burned brimstone and not a\nsoul to roast!\n\nDrearily enough, the Devil began his rounds again. He had to keep the\nboys cheered up. How he wished that he had not been so democratic and\ntold them just when things had been started on the sphere. The best he\ncould do now, was to lie out of that and claim that this was just a\ntrial run. But he could see that many of his once loyal helpers had\nutterly lost faith in his leadership. He had been proud of those\nhelpers, some of the brightest demons in the game. He had bid them off\ngood jobs in older hells by promises of greater freedom to try out their\nown ideas. In that way he had obtained a superior set of tortures for\nspecial sins. But now no souls--and half his demons deserted and the\ncleverest of his torture machines rusting from lack of use.\n\nAt last he could stand it no longer, and he went back to his private\nchambers. Telling his valet that he was not to be disturbed, he locked\nthe door and took a sleeping potion gauged for a century.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBoom! Boom! Boom!\n\nI. B. Devil awoke and tried to stretch himself, but he was so stiff he\ncould hardly move. Cold, icy cold penetrated his very bones. He managed\nat last to sit up on the edge of his couch, and then the chamber door\nfell in before the battering ram of the last of his faithful followers.\nSix shivering demons piled into the chamber--the six grateful firemen to\nwhom he had given the extra souls.\n\n\"The last of the fires are out, Your Majesty, and all the others have\ndeserted.\"\n\n\"But why,\" demanded the Devil, \"did you not keep my private furnace\nfired? We shall all freeze to death.\"\n\n\"But, Your Majesty, there is no one to work the mines. Do you not\nremember that you arranged for them to be worked by the souls of scabs\nwho were to be killed by strikers?\"\n\n\"Another blunder,\" sighed the Devil. \"Well, there is a grate and in that\ncase yonder is my private stock of smoking brimstone. Light it, for I\nmust get thawed out so I can think.\"\n\nThe two-souled firemen hastened to obey and the seven of them were soon\nsitting around the spluttering blue flames and inhaling the delicious\nvapors.\n\nThe Devil got out a set of heavy, asbestos furs, smiling as he recalled\nfor whom he had ordered them. He had intended to keep her in his private\nchamber to light his pipe and brew his tea--and he had chuckled many a\ntime at the thought of her in summer furs.\n\nHe laid the furs on a chair and went to his desk and wrote busily for a\nfew minutes.\n\n\"Now, boys,\" he said, \"here are your passes for mortality, and remember\nyou have two souls.\"\n\nThe firemen vanished and the Devil was alone in Hell.\n\nHe drew on the furs and wrapped his own travelling cape about them. Then\nhe went into the outer chamber. Across the room the windows, into which\nusually shone the cheery redness of roaring flames, were now frosted\nwith weird designs, and the fireproof platinum fittings on the great\ndoor were hoary white.\n\nSlowly the Devil trudged across the chill chamber and, with a fur-clad\nhand, grasped the frosted handle, swung open the great door, and stepped\nout on the balcony.\n\nFor a moment he was blinded by the dazzling, sparkling white. He\nstumbled over some object and bent down to find the huddled form of a\ndemon frozen stiff as an ice idol. It was poor little Beezel, who had\ncome all the way from the hell of the three-ringed planet to try out his\nnew scheme of torture for trigamists.\n\nI. B. Devil stepped lightly over his frozen disciple and went to the\nbalcony rail. Shading his eyes until they became accustomed to the white\nglare, he now looked far up and down the wide stretches of his domain,\npuzzled, dumbfounded and subdued. The water mains that supplied the\nsteam baths had burst and flooded the place, and all hell was frozen\nover!\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nI. B. Devil leaped from the balustrade and straight as an arrow shot\nupward to Gud's Paradise.\n\nHe paused for a moment only outside the portals to discard the furs he\nwore, then he pushed open the great unguarded gate and stepped inside.\n\nIt was a goodly heaven, vast and beautiful and shining in its new-made\nemptiness.\n\nI. B. Devil did not pause for admiration, but went straightway to Gud's\nprivate office and kicked open the door. There was no one there. Beside\nthe larger desk was a lesser one, and on this lay a powder puff and a\nsmall mirror. The Devil stepped to the file cabinet, flung it open; and\nwith uncanny accuracy reached in, pulled out the carbon copy of the\norder for souls, and read:\n\n\"In accordance with your quotation, you may ship us at once three\nbillion mortal souls.\"\n\n\"Poor old chap,\" mused the Devil, \"I should never have trusted one.\"\n\nThen he stepped outside and mounted to the throne of Gud. There he found\na note pinned to the upholstery. It read: \"We have gone to Hell.\"\n\nThe Devil went back to the portal of Gud's heaven and picked up the\nfurs: \"I guess,\" he said, \"I had better take them down to her.\"\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nBut Gud let her go to Hell alone, for in the course of their headlong\nflight, he heard the faint sound of far off barking. Wheeling in the\nether Gud made straight for the campfire, where he had left Fidu\nwatching the beans.\n\n\"Did the beans boil over?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"No, indeed,\" said Fidu, in his best dog language, \"but you were gone so\nlong that I caught a nice wild boar so that there is pork in the beans.\"\n\n\"Don't you know, Fidu,\" admonished Gud, \"that I disapprove of eating\npork?\"\n\n\"But,\" said Fidu, \"this was a vegetarian pig, for he was rooting for\npeanuts when I caught him.\"\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXIV\n\n\n    There are figures in the shadow but the shadow hides the faces,\n    And their silence is a subject that must flagellate the flesh.\n    There are hands and arms that touch you with their lingering embraces\n    Like the petals of clipped flowers still miraculously fresh.\n\n    There are voices through the darkness 'round which darkness swiftly\n      closes;\n    Remembered words and phrases that are only lost in death,\n    Heard within some misted twilight in a garden filled with roses\n    As though our own youth whispered with its awed and hollow breath.\n\n    There is nothing in the shadow that will satisfy our quest,\n    For each shore that's undiscovered has been lined with molding wrecks,\n    And if we should burst on Beauty with her healing hands of rest\n    Life would bind us down in duty to some slavery of sex.\n\n    There is something quite sardonic in the race's old ideals,\n    And the struggle for their gaining is derisive as a jest....\n    He who prays unto his Godhead will be wiped out as he kneels,\n    While the wonders of decay will destroy all the rest.\n\n    We are grinding in the shadow for the glory of the ages,\n    Though no hope of immortality has ever come to stay;\n    Yet each human soul is fretting at the bars of separate cages\n    Hearing rhythms of tomorrow in the discords of today.\n\n    All the ones who started seeking when the game was strange and new,\n    See the beauty of believing lost in wonders of deceit\n    There is truth in every vision, but the day is hardly through,\n    Ere the night is all around us with her silence and defeat.\n\n    There is dogma, there is duty in the urge of dead emotion\n    Through the worshipped gods of yesterday the present gods exist\n    Hid away among our temples for the dreams of our devotion\n    The alters of the ages in their ruins still persist.\n\n    Let the mothers bear their children for the centuries to come\n    There is truth in adoration for the thing that is adored\n    And if all the many answers on the lips of life are dumb\n    At least the coming children may be murdered for the Lord.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXV\n\n\nAfter Gud had regaled himself on pork and beans he laid down under a\ndeadly nightshade tree and fell asleep. As he slept a worm happened\nalong and stepped on Gud, and Gud turned.\n\n\"Pardon,\" said the worm, \"but I did not notice you until you turned. You\nsee I was very preoccupied, for I have just returned from the Diet of\nWorms, which was called by the Conqueror Worm to suppress a book. As\nsoon as I heard that a book had been suppressed I went in search of a\ncopy. I found one in the Master's chamber of a deserted mansion of the\nnewly cultured. I carefully chewed it up and removed the fragments to my\nnest, where I pieced them together again.\"\n\n\"What kind of book is it?\" asked Gud. \"I am rather fond of forbidden\nbooks.\"\n\n\"It is a book of etiquette,\" replied the worm, \"and if you will promise\nme not to mark it up or tear out any choice passages, I will lend you my\ncopy.\"\n\nSo Gud sat down upon a gravel and the worm climbed a stalk of timothy\nand handed Gud the book; but it was so badly patched up that he could\nnot read it.\n\n\"Perhaps,\" suggested the worm, \"I should read it to you. See, this is\nthe table of contents. It says:\n\n\"'How to shake hands with gloves on.\n\n\"'How to introduce people who already know each other.\n\n\"'How to steal postage stamps without having a guilty conscience.\n\n\"'How to dance without knowing how.\n\n\"'How to pretend to understand relativity.\n\n\"'What to wear if you don't like spats.\n\n\"'How to tell a risque story in the presence of a minister.\n\n\"'How to get rich without making your friends envious.\n\n\"'How to catch large fish with little worms.'\n\n\"Ah,\" cried the worm, \"that is the very line that caused the Diet of\nWorms to suppress the book, for that is an allusion to the bitter truth\nthat worms are put on hooks to catch fish. We worms, who know that in\nthe end we shall conquer man himself, do not like to be reminded that in\nthe meanwhile man may use us for fish bait.\"\n\nGud smiled at the thought that the worms could only suppress the truth,\nwhereas he could change it. So he made it to be that men should no\nlonger put worms on hooks to catch fish, but should henceforth put fish\non hooks to catch worms. That is how came the great sport of worming;\nand some of the worm tales men tell do not need to be suppressed, for\nthere is no truth in them.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXVI\n\n\nAnd now Gud came to a place where the ether was as thick as coal tar. It\nwas so dark that Fidu could not even imagine a moon, and Gud could not\nsee any reason for existence.\n\nJust as he had about decided that there would never be any more light,\nGud saw a wee small flicker shining in the inky void, as might an\ninvisible star if there never had been brighter stars to pale its flame.\n\nHastening on Gud and Fidu came upon the source of light and found it to\nbe a man with a torch in his hand who was very much occupied in\nsearching for something.\n\n\"Have you lost anything?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"No,\" replied the man, \"but I am looking for something.\"\n\n\"I shall be glad to assist you,\" offered Gud, \"and my dog here is very\ngood in locating lost articles; so if you will kindly tell us what you\nare looking for we will help you find it.\"\n\n\"I am looking,\" replied the man, \"for creation's dawn and the end of all\nthings. I also wish to find the unknowable first cause and the eternal\nvarieties and the limits of space. I am searching for the cause of hope,\nthe reason for despair, the explanation of love and the excuse for\ncrime. I am seeking a reason for all that is, and a cause for all that\never was and an accurate prophesy of all that ever will be. I am also\nhunting for the fundamental principles, the absolute truth, the laws of\nnature, the theories of science, the hypotheses of metaphysics, the\ninterpretations of creeds, the aims of arts and the melodies of songs\nthat have never been sung. And I do wish so to locate all the unknown\nstars, and trace all the lost comets, and determine what kept the\nheavens in order before the law of gravitation was enacted. But most of\nall I want to find out why my wife thinks I am a fool to be out here\nlooking for these things.\"\n\n\"If you do not object to a little operation,\" said Gud, \"I can find all\nthese things for you and show you where they all are.\"\n\nThen without waiting for the man to reply, Gud caused a deep sleep to\nfall upon him, and straightway Gud opened up the man's skull and took\nout his brains and laid them upon a platter.\n\nWhen the man awoke he looked upon his own brains and saw that they were\nvery much like calf's brains, except that they were more convoluted and\nsutured.\n\n\"And why is this platter set before me?\" demanded the man as he stood\nthere gazing upon his own brains.\n\n\"Because,\" replied Gud, \"therein lies what you were looking for, and you\nneed search no further, for it is all there and much more besides.\"\n\n\"So, so,\" said the man, \"I see it all, and now I shall go home to my\nwife and find if a child has been born unto her while I have been away.\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Gud, \"would you give me your torch, since you will not be\nneeding it longer?\"\n\nThe man did so; and after he had gone, Gud took the torch and set the\ndarkness on fire.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXVII\n\n\nOnce more Gud walked along the Impossible Curve, which had now become\nmore impossible than ever.\n\nGud was lonely, for he missed his faithful companion, the Underdog, whom\nhe had sold into slavery. His heart was filled with grief, and remorse\npreyed upon his soul, and Gud resolved never again to be ungrateful and\nnever to be unkind, and to grant to all creatures their wishes and to\nhelp them to realize their hearts' desires and make their dreams come\ntrue.\n\nIn his sorrow and loneliness Gud walked on until his feet were sore and\nhe was athirst. Then he came to a flowing fountain of pure water. He\npaused and kneeled at the fountain. When he had quenched his thirst, he\nremoved his sandals and bathed his feet in the stream that flowed from\nthe fountain.\n\nThen Gud laid himself down by the fountain and fell asleep, and dreamed\nthat a beautiful bubble appeared on the surface of the fountain.\n\nThe bubble which Gud saw in his dream was iridescent with a great\niridescence; for the colors of the bubble were many and they were ever\nchanging, so that it was never twice alike.\n\nIn the iridescence of the bubble Gud saw the essence of transcendent\nbeauty, for its beauty was as the beauty of youth, and as the beauty of\nfaith, and as the beauty of love, and as the beauty of a woman, when she\nis young and has faith and a longing for more love than she has found.\n\nAs Gud looked upon the beauty of the bubble, he saw that it was no\nlonger a bubble, for it had become a woman of flesh and blood, and hope\nand love and beauty. And he saw that she looked upon him with faith and\ntrust. This pleased Gud, so he spoke in his dream to the woman of his\ndream and said: \"Who art thou and what wouldst thou of me?\"\n\nAnd the woman replied, \"Oh, Gud, I am a searcher after mysteries that\nhave not been revealed and things which can not be understood. And I am\nsore distressed because I have looked and have found them not.\"\n\nGud asked, \"Have you looked into the mind of man?\"\n\n\"I have looked into the mind of man,\" replied the woman, \"and it is very\nsimple.\"\n\nAgain Gud asked: \"Have you looked into the heart of woman?\"\n\nShe replied to Gud and said: \"Into the heart of woman have I also\nlooked, and though it is not so simple, yet do I understand it, for am I\nnot a woman?\"\n\n\"Of a truth you are a woman, and you are very beautiful.\"\n\nAnd she smiled upon Gud, and when she smiled, he vowed that he would\ngrant her all her wishes and the fulfillment of all her dreams.\n\nBut first he would know who she was, and so he spoke to her again and\nsaid: \"Of a truth, and who art thou?\"\n\nAnd she of the iridescent beauty, which is the beauty that is ever\nchanging, made answer to Gud: \"Of a truth, great Gud, I am no other than\nthe reader of this book which two men are writing about you.\"\n\n\"What's this?\" asked Gud, for he was much amazed, albeit not displeased,\nto hear that Hersey and I were writing this book about him.\n\nAnd the iridescent woman said again, \"I am the reader of 'The Book of\nGud,' which Dan Spain and Harold Hersey are writing about you.\"\n\n\"How do you know they are writing it?\"\n\n\"I know,\" said the woman, \"because it is common gossip in the Village,\nfor every one there gossips about anything Hersey has a hand in.\"\n\n\"Where is this village?\" asked Gud, \"and who is this Hersey creature?\"\n\n\"The Village,\" she replied, \"where Hersey burns his wee small flame, is\nSouth of Fourteenth Street and West of University Place, in the City of\nNew York, which is the Gateway to the Melting Pot of the Planet Earth in\nthe Solar System of the Universe.\"\n\n\"Which universe?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"My universe,\" said the woman.\n\n\"It must be a nice one, but what do you wish that I should do for you?\"\n\n\"What I wish,\" said she (who is none other than the reader of this book)\n\"is to find some great mystery in art or literature or in some psychic\nscience; and I wish that you would inspire these men to put something\ninto 'The Book of Gud' that no one can understand.\"\n\n\"I will look into the matter,\" said Gud. And he did.... Then he looked\nagain into the iridescent eyes of the ever-changing woman and said to\nher: \"It is useless, for I have searched the soul of that fellow Spain\nand he is not an inspired writer but only a disgruntled hack who could\nnot possibly write anything that you could not understand.\"\n\nWhereupon the woman was vexed with disappointment so that she began to\nweep, and in the small compass of each tear she shed was the iridescence\nof a tiny rainbow. As Gud saw her tears, that they were beautiful, his\nheart overflowed with tenderness, and he said with a gentle voice: \"I\nwill try again.\"\n\nAnd now Gud searched the soul of Hersey. His search was not without\nreward and when he returned again to the beautiful woman she ceased to\nweep, for in his hand she saw that Gud held a poem. Seating himself\nbeside her, he read her this poem that Hersey had written in the white\nheat of inspiration:\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXVIII\n\n\n    She stood there carelessly arrayed\n    All in jewelled dress,\n    And leaning on the balustrade\n    She wept with bitterness,\n    For facing her there stood a maid\n    Of rival loveliness.\n\n    Once she had been indifferent\n    To languishment or guile,\n    But when I argued with intent\n    To hold her by a smile,\n    Upon my eyes her own were bent\n    For quite a little while.\n\n    The lady raised her fluttering hands.\n    \"The night is cold,\" she said,\n    \"For tropic men in northern lands,\n    For old maids still unwed,\n    And for the evil one who stands\n    In heaven when he's dead.\"\n\n    She turned and gazed upon that face\n    As lovely as her own,\n    The poise of beauty and of grace\n    That matched her grace alone....\n    And in that close and silent place\n    I heard the lady moan.\n\n    I held the lady to my breast\n    And kissed her mouth and eyes.\n    She sighed and snuggled down to rest\n    Without the least surprise,\n    While I told tales of sweet unrest\n    That sounded very wise.\n\n    \"They say I'm mad,\" she whispered then,\n    \"I weep for dear despair,\n    No matter where I go, dark men\n    Follow me everywhere....\"\n    To quiet her I kissed again\n    Her locks of golden hair.\n\n    \"Great God!\" she cried with finished grace,\n    \"That woman whom I hate.\"\n    I looked and in a mirror's face\n    I saw the lady's mate.\n    Then quiet men of that strange place\n    Came down the halls of state.\n\n    They took the lady tenderly\n    Away from sound and sight.\n    I answered not. It seemed to me\n    As though they must be right.\n    So I smashed the mirror utterly\n    And fled into the night.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXIX\n\n\nAnd when Gud had finished reading the woman asked: \"Is that all?\"\n\nAnd Gud looked at the poem in his hand and said sorrowfully, \"That is\nall.\"\n\n\"But that is quite comprehensible,\" said the woman, \"for it is merely\none of Hersey's usual plagiarisms--a twittering parody of Rossetti's\n'THE BLESSED DAMOSEL', and it is so simple.\"\n\n\"Do you understand it?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"Of course, it merely means that the love of man is insufficient to\nsatisfy the yearning of woman, and so she must look into the mirror of\nher own soul in search of greater spiritual joys. But alas, she is\nshadowed by her sex consciousness as reflected in her beauty of the\nflesh, and she can not escape that haunting shadow which finally drives\nher mad. Is that not simple?\"\n\n     To D. S.: I protest. This interpretation is entirely\n     erroneous.--H. H.\n\n     To H. H.: Good God, I know it! but if you had seen what I first\n     wrote about it you would keep still.--D. S.\n\n\"I should say,\" said Gud, \"that it is beautiful simplicity.\"\n\n\"That is just the trouble with all that these chaps are writing. They\nare so keen on the obvious. You see, I can understand all that these men\nhave written, for it is all explainable by psychoanalysis. It is merely\nthe symbolism of a suppressed wish to be famous. And, oh Gud, how I do\ncrave true mystery!\"\n\n\"Then,\" said Gud, \"you shall have it, for am I not Gud the Great?\"\n\n\"If you are, why do you not inspire these men who are writing this book\nabout you to put something into the book that no one can understand?\nIndeed, if you cannot do that I shall be tempted to believe that you are\nnot Gud, but only a mere figment of fancy conceived in the brains of two\nconceited young egotists who are seeking a cheap notoriety by shocking\ndecent people with blasphemous literature.\"\n\n\"I fear you are right.\"\n\n\"Oh,\" cried the woman, \"then you admit that you are what I said?\"\n\n\"Not at all. I merely admit that he is what you said.\"\n\n\"Really, Gud, you ought to have had some well-known writer do this book\nabout you--some one who had already been suppressed, or, better yet, a\nRussian.\"\n\n\"Who are the Russians?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"They are the supremists in dancing, the theorists in politics, the\nidealists in economics and the realists in literature. But you are\nromantic, aren't you, Gud?\"\n\n\"I think so. At least I feel so--did you always wear your hair that\nway?\"\n\n\"Oh, no, indeed. You see, I used to wear it shorn like that of a boy,\nfor that fashion was once the insignia of the female intelligence. But\nall the fat bankers' wives aped us, so now our only chance for\ndistinction is to ape our mothers, and I wear my mother's hair. See, I\nwill take it off and show it to you.\"\n\n\"It is very lovely,\" said Gud, as he fingered her mother's hair. \"I\nthink I should have loved your mother, and it is very sweet of you to\nwear this hair in remembrance of her. Most women who have risen to your\nintellectual heights forget their mothers.\"\n\n\"It is very kind of you to say that, but distinction is in being\ndifferent, and so we ultra-intelligent women are again showing respect\nfor our mothers to distinguish us from the mob of the commonplace\nintellectuals who came flopping into the pool of progress and muddied\nthe water.... It is a great race, dear Gud, this struggle to keep ahead\nof the apings of the stupid.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, so I find it. Little up-start muddling gods have quite fogged\nup the milky way with their nebulous creations--but pardon me if I\nsuggest that I would rather that you put your mother's hair back on.\"\n\nShe had some difficulty in putting her mother's hair on straight; so Gud\nreached over, and with a few deft touches, arranged it for her. Then,\nplucking a button from his robe, he burnished it on his sleeve until it\nshone silvery bright, and then he held it before her. She looked into\nthe mirroring silver and gave a little rapturous cry of joy, for the\nhair of her mother, on which they had both wasted so much henna, had\nbeen turned into a brilliant shade of fluorescent opalescence--a color\nthat no artist of the Latin Quarter had ever painted and that no artist\nof the Village had ever imagined.\n\n\"Oh, Gud,\" she cried, \"now I know that I love you, for they will go mad\nabout it and I shall be the queen of the studios.\"\n\n\"I would rather that you remain just a woman as you have so sweetly\nshown yourself to be.\"\n\n\"Never!\" cried she who wanted something that no one could understand,\n\"never, never, will I be content to be just a woman! I must be, oh so\nmuch more. I must have super-personality, and hyper-yearnings, and\nultra-strivings and transcendent seekings after ultimate\nmysteries--really I don't think you understand me at all!\"\n\n\"Has any one ever understood you?\" asked Gud.\n\n\"No,\" she breathed in soft expectancy.\n\n\"Only a little while ago you were searching for something that no one\ncould understand--have we not found it in yourself?\"\n\n\"Perhaps,\" she spoke dubiously.\n\n\"And if you were in my book, would it not then contain something that no\none could understand?\"\n\n\"Do you mean it?\" she faltered.\n\n\"Yes, dear child, for whom all writers write, if it will bring me one\nmore smile from those ever-changing eyes of beauty--I will see that you\nare in '_The Book of Gud_'--if I have to catch these blasphemous scribes\nand pound their heads together!\"\n\n\"For that promise,\" said the iridescent lady, \"I could love you forever\nand a day. To think that we two should be in a book together! Just me\nand Gud!\n\n\"And now,\" she added, in a lower tone, \"I'll confess to you why I want\nto be in the book. You see, I am supposed to be a literary character and\none has to be in a book to be a literary character, you know.\"\n\n\"Yes, yes, I know. I suppose it will make me one also. But now I must\nhasten to seek out these mundane scribes, and see to it that they put\nyou in my book--for they have it about finished.\"\n\n\"Which one of them do you propose to have write me into the book?\"\n\n\"Which one would you prefer?\"\n\n\"I hardly know,\" she said. \"That fellow Spain is a woman hater, and I am\nafraid he will say something unkind about me. But that Hersey poet\nprostitutes his art to flatter women. He has an exaggerated idea of the\nimportance of the sex consciousness in an intellectual woman's life.\nReally, it is a choice between two evils.\"\n\n\"If that is the way you feel about it,\" said Gud, \"perhaps I had better\nwrite you into the book myself.\"\n\n\"Could you really? Oh, Gud! I would die of joy to be written by you; not\neven a movie actress ever had a celestial press agent!\"\n\n\"I'll try,\" said Gud, \"that is, if you will tarry with me as I write.\"\n\n\"Do you mean that I would inspire you?\"\n\n\"Exactly.\"\n\n\"That is what they all say!\"\n\n\"Then it must be true.\"\n\n\"But why do you not say something original, since you are Gud?\"\n\n\"Because I am talking to you.\"\n\n\"You old brute!\"\n\n\"Perhaps so, but a straight line is the shortest distance between two\npoints.\"\n\n\"Oh, I like that,\" cried she who had sought for mystery. \"It sounds so\noriginal, and I am sure that no one can understand it--what does it\nmean?\"\n\n\"It means,\" said Gud, \"that you and I have very much in common that\nquite transcends the reach and grasp of men.\"\n\n\"You flatter me.\"\n\n\"But really, that is true.\"\n\n\"Then quick, write it down before you lose the inspiration.\"\n\n\"But I have nothing on which to write,\" said Gud.\n\nShe blushed and turned away from him, and tore the whiteness from her\nbosom, and turned again toward Gud and handed him the whiteness that had\ncovered up the secrets of her heart.\n\nGud took the whiteness of her bosom and thereupon he began to write,\nwhile she lay down upon the other side of the pool, and hid her bosom\naway from Gud, lest, now with its whiteness gone, he might see the color\nof her heart.\n\nAnd so Gud, who is made in the image of man, became as a man. And as he\nwrote he forgot the woman, for when a pen is in the hand of man or god,\nthe light that lies in woman's eyes burns dim as some brief candle.\n\nAnd this indeed is the paradox of all who wield the treacherous weapon:\nthat man sets out to write, some woman's heart to flutter; and having\nstruck pen to paper, if there be anything in him that rises o'er the\ndamp swamp of woman's kisses, then of a truth the instrument that she\nput into his hand becomes a knife to sever the cords with which she\nsought to bind him.\n\nSuch is the tragedy of her who flutters near while men make words on\npaper, that in their youth they write for her; and their youth gone,\nthey still write on beyond the reaches of her soul.\n\nAnd so, as Gud wrote upon the whiteness torn from a woman's bosom, he\nforgot quite utterly the woman herself, who lay by the pool trembling\nand suffering and trying to hide her heart from Gud.\n\nAnd when she saw that he had forgotten her--even though he had told her\nhe wanted her near him and needed her for inspiration--she suffered so\nthat her heart died within her, and she shrank and withered and fell\ninto the pool of the fountain, and, as a brown leaf, floated on the\nsurface of the water.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXX\n\n\nWhen Gud had finished that which he was writing he arose and looked\nabout him. He seemed to be searching for something, but could not recall\nwhat it was, and decided that it was of no importance.\n\nHe drew on his sandals and made ready to go upon his way. But the way\nwas long and Gud recalled that he had been weary and had been athirst.\nSo he knelt by the fountain and stooped over it to drink.\n\nThere was a brown leaf floating on the water, but he swished it away and\ndrank his fill from the flowing fountain. Then Gud arose and girded up\nhis loins and went on his way along the Impossible Curve.\n\n\n\n\nChapter LXXI\n\n\n    I met an old man walking through the sky,\n    A sort of startled twinkle in his eye.\n    \"And who are you?\" asked I.\n    \"I am Gud,\" replied he, with a frown.\n    \"Which one?\" I asked, polite but terse,\n    But without answer he went shrieking down\n    The shadowy spaces of the universe.","title":"The Book of Gud","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":53005}