me. I even tackled Swedenborg, or rather samples of him, for he is very
copious, but without satisfactory results. [Ha!--JB]

Then I gave up the business.



Some months later I was in Zululand and being near the Black Kloof
where he dwelt, I paid a visit to my acquaintance of whom I have
written elsewhere, the wonderful and ancient dwarf, Zikali, known as
"The-Thing-that-should-never-have-been-born," also more universally
among the Zulus as "Opener-of-Roads." When we had talked of many things
connected with the state of Zululand and its politics, I rose to leave
for my waggon, since I never cared for sleeping in the Black Kloof if it
could be avoided.

"Is there nothing else that you want to ask me, Macumazahn?" asked
the old dwarf, tossing back his long hair and looking at--I had almost
written through--me.

I shook my head.

"That is strange, Macumazahn, for I seem to see something written on
your mind--something to do with spirits."

Then I remembered all the problems that had been troubling me, although
in truth I had never thought of propounding them to Zikali.

"Ah! it comes back, does it?" he exclaimed, reading my thought. "Out
with it, then, Macumazahn, while I am in a mood to answer, and before