And the man went forth with his sword, and behold it was even war. And
the man remembered the little things that he knew, and thought of the
quiet days that there used to be, and at night on the hard ground
dreamed of the things of peace. And dearer and dearer grew the wonted
things, the dull but easeful things of the days of peace, and
remembering these he began to regret the war, and sought once more a
boon of the ancient gods, and appearing before them he said: "O
ancient gods, indeed but a man loves best the days of peace. Therefore
take back your war and give us peace, for indeed of all your
blessedness peace is best."

And the man returned again to the haunts of peace.

But in a while the man grew weary of peace, of the things that he used
to know, and the savour of sameness again; and sighing again for the
tents, and appearing once more to the gods, he said to them: "Ancient
gods; we do not love your peace, for indeed the days are dull, and a
man is best at war."

And the gods made him a war.

And there were drums again, the smoke of campfires again, wind in the
waste again, the sound of horses of war, burning cities again, and the
things that wanderers know; and the thoughts of that man went home to
the ways of peace; moss upon lawns again, light in old spires again,
sun upon gardens again, flowers in pleasant woods and sleep and the
paths of peace.

And once more the man appeared to the ancient gods and sought from