But for the doctor one thing had been worked out to the end: that year by year he was to drive along turnpikes and lanes—alone. That every spring he was to see the sower go forth in the fields; that with his whitening hair he was to watch beside the beds of sick children; and often at night under his lamp to fall asleep with his eyes fixed upon The World's Path of Lessening Pain.
When the two were gone, it was a still spot that afternoon with the sunlight on the grass. As the sun began to descend, its rays gradually left the earth and passed upward toward the pinnacles of the pines; and lingering on those summits awhile, it finally took its flight back to the infinite. Twilight fell gray; darkness began to brood; objects lost their outlines. The trees of the enclosure became shadows; these shadows in time became as other realities. The sturdy young evergreen planted beside the boy as his forest counterpart, having his shape and size, now stood there as the lad himself wrapped in his overcoat—the crimson-tipped madcap little fellow who had gambolled across the frozen fields that windy morning toward his Christmas Festival.
In this valley of earth he stood there holding upright for all to see the slab on which was to be read his brief ended tale:—
"Unto a Land Not Inhabited."
THE END
Mr. JAMES LANE ALLEN'S