for correspondence with the departed and a certain knowledge of their
existence.

I wonder whether many people understand, as I do, how entirely distinct
and how variable are these moods which sway us, or at any rate some of
us, at sundry periods of our lives. As I think I have already suggested,
at one time we are all spiritual; at another all physical; at one time
we are sure that our lives here are as a dream and a shadow and that the
real existence lies elsewhere; at another that these brief days of ours
are the only business with which we have to do and that of it we must
make the best. At one time we think our loves much more immortal than
the stars; at another that they are mere shadows cast by the baleful sun
of desire upon the shallow and fleeting water we call Life which seems
to flow out of nowhere into nowhere. At one time we are full of
faith, at another all such hopes are blotted out by a black wall of
Nothingness, and so on _ad infinitum_. Only very stupid people, or
humbugs, are or pretend to be, always consistent and unchanging.

To return, I determined not only that I would not travel north to seek
that which no living man will ever find, certainty as to the future,
but also, to show my independence of Zikali, that I would not visit
this chief, Umslopogaas. So, having traded all my goods and made a fair
profit (on paper), I set myself to return to Natal, proposing to rest
awhile in my little house at Durban, and told Hans my mind.

"Very good, Baas," he said. "I, too, should like to go to Durban. There
are lots of things there that we cannot get here," and he fixed his
roving eye upon a square-faced gin bottle, which as it happened was
filled with nothing stronger than water, because all the gin was drunk.
"Yet, Baas, we shall not see the Berea for a long while."