life history. The cry meets with no response, but instead, relentlessly,
surely, aye, and most mercifully, the facts and events group themselves
about the cowering spirit, that before Love celestial Light may arise.
It is a terrible destiny, devised by a God, and only possible in its
severity for creatures to whom it has been declared, "Behold, ye are
gods!"

At noon Atmâ rested beside a pool. It was a sequestered spot surrounded
by thickets. The rushes grew rank and tall on the margin and in the
water. The soft cooing of the doves hidden in the wood broke the
stillness. He ate of the slender fare which he carried, and reclined on
a flower couch until sleep closed his eyes. The doves cooed on, and
bright lizards watched him.

Presently he awoke with a start. A rush of wind, a sudden plash of water
were followed by the whizzing of an arrow through the air. He was close
to the water. Softly peering through the reeds he saw, palpitating and
stricken with fear, a snowy swan. The arrow had missed the stainless
breast and it was unhurt. The wild creatures of his mountain home were
dear to Atmâ, and he would fain shield the beautiful bird.

Two youths emerged from the thicket at some distance from where he
stood. He went to meet them, smiling at the folly of his half-formed
intention of guiding them from their prey. After courteous salutation
they inquired whether he had seen the swan.

"It is a bird reared by ourselves," they said, "which strayed from us
two days ago. We thought to wound it in the wing and recover it, but the
creature is so wild that doubtless it is as well that it be killed
out-right."