"Forgetfulness may be desirable," said another, "but how shall it be
attained? How deny the tyrant who at each sunset demands his tribute
dues of sleep, and enwraps my vassal being in dull oblivion?"

"By ill-conditioned fears," replied the Rajah, "men invite evil. To him
who desires the solace of ghostly companionship shall the spectres
troop, a phantom in every shadow, and with him make their abode. He who
fears is already overcome. To the man who would live there must be no
death. For me, I love the rosy, teeming present; to-morrow is with the
gods, and I for one," he added laughing, "will not be guilty of an
impious theft by anticipating their gifts."

"Life," said an Englishman, "is a battle-field in which victory is to
the valiant. To my mind the effort after forgetfulness is no less
disquieting than the fear you would shun. Death, could we but believe
it, is simple and natural as Life."

But this he said, not knowing that

"Life is a mystery as deep as ever death can be."

"It is true," spoke the Venerable Nawab Khan, a Musselman of devout
piety, "and to what purpose do we struggle? The inevitable is not to be
averted

Tho', sliding through lush grass, the shining snake,
Loving the sun, a sinuous way doth take,
Its fixed journey to its home 'twill make.
Even as in tranquil vale reluctant rill,
In sportive twinings nigh its parent hill,