has once looked on the lost Vineta, has once heard the sounds of her
bells, is pursued all his life by a longing which bears him no rest
until the enchanted city rises before him once more--or draws him down
below unto the depths. The unfortunate person who has once gazed upon
the ghastly ruins of Fatalism, knows no peace, but like the legend of
Vineta, it will drag him down to misery and destruction.

The lady was saying:

We are but clay in the hands of the potter. Nothing we do can change the
current of our lives. The hand of Fate is over all, leading us on,
whether it be for good or for ill. From the cradle to the grave, from
birth to death, there is a power ruling our destinies. In infancy our
cradles are rocked by the invisible hand of fate, in middle age we are
driven by it, in old age we are led by the same hand. I see before me a
vessel starting out under full sail. The sky is clear; the air soft and
balmy, and everything speaks of a favorable voyage, but when in
mid-ocean, the sky grows dark, the wind arises, the waves roll higher
and higher; soon the vessel gets beyond control, and the sailors find
themselves drifting towards the breakers. Efforts are redoubled, all
that human energy can do is done, but of no avail. Fate is beckoning
them onward to their doom. We see a boy starting out in life full of
youthful hopes and buoyant in health, happiness and strength. He sees in
his mind's eye a thousand chances of success. Life is before him and
there is one haven he must reach before his ambition is gratified. About
midway in his career he stops. Clouds gather and he finds he has been
driven from his course by adverse winds and tides--struggle as he may
his efforts are futile for fate has intervened. The hand of destiny has
led him, perhaps to misery, perchance to happiness, but which-ever it
proves to be, he finds there is a hand, shaping, ruling, guiding, and