He was industrious, building up islands and continents on the earth. In recognition of his zeal he was turned into a crab.
In this capacity, too, there could be no complaint against him, and he was soon transferred to the class of sea-serpents.
He played some innocent pranks on sailors, but he never harmed anyone. Soon he received four feet and the rank of a mastodon, with the privilege of roaming over the land.
With the self-control of a philosopher he entered upon his new life, busying himself with geological investigations.
A few centuries later—remember that in the kingdom of spirits all time taken together is only as a short quarter of an hour—or to speak more correctly, that all time is nothing. For time was made merely for man, for his amusement, and given to him just as we give picture books to children. For spirits, present, past and future are all the same. They comprehend yesterday, to-day and to-morrow at a glance, just as one reads a word without spelling it out. What was and is going to be, is.
The Egyptians and Phœnicians knew that very well, but Christians have forgotten it.
Fancy knew that Walter could not read, so she related Upsilon’s story to him, just as I am doing for the reader.
Some centuries later he had become an elephant; then a moment later, i. e., about ten years before the opening of my story—I mean years as we mortals reckon them—he was elevated to the class of man.
I don’t know what sins he may have committed as an elephant.
Anyway, Fancy had said, that in order to return to his station as a spirit-prince in a short time and escape any further degradation it was necessary for him to be diligent and well behaved in his present state, and not write any robber songs, or slip out things and sell them—even if it was only a Bible.