child grow up with that name on his hand. And there is no other means of
removing characters that come in that way upon the body of a child: you
must rub the skin with clay taken from the grave of the body of the former
birth."...




HI-MAWARI


On the wooded hill behind the house Robert and I are looking for
fairy-rings. Robert is eight years old, comely, and very wise;-- I am a
little more than seven,-- and I reverence Robert. It is a glowing glorious
August day; and the warm air is filled with sharp sweet scents of resin.


We do not find any fairy-rings; but we find a great many pine-cones in the
high grass... I tell Robert the old Welsh story of the man who went to
sleep, unawares, inside a fairy-ring, and so disappeared for seven years,
and would never eat or speak after his friends had delivered him from the
enchantment.


"They eat nothing but the points of needles, you know," says Robert.


"Who?" I ask.