Long, long ago, when the old nations were child-nations, they had the most wonderful dreams and stories in their hearts; and they told them over so many, many times, with love and wonder, that they grew into Art,—poems and songs and pictures. And there is one beautiful story which you will find in many songs and poems, for almost every nation has told it in its own way. And this is it:

Long, long ago—so long that no one can tell whether it really happened or whether the old German folk only dreamed it—there was a band of knights who went away and lived together on a beautiful high mountain, far above the world, where no evil might ever come to them; and there they thought of nothing but pure and holy things. The purest knight was chosen king among them, and led them in all high things; and they lived so for many years, keeping themselves from wrong and beholding blessed wonders that the world had never seen,—miracles of light that sometimes passed above them.

But once there came an evil thought to the very king; nothing could put it away, and it was like a spear-wound in his side that nothing could heal. It was the greatest suffering; it even touched the joy of the knights, for they began to think only of what would heal the king. Many went far and wide, seeking a cure, while others dropped back to the world again; for the pattern of purity was not perfect any longer, and they seemed to forget what it had been. All the miracles stopped, and the sick king and the knights waited and waited for one who was pure enough to show them the perfect pattern again.

And one day a youth passed by who was so innocent that he did not know what wrong was. When the knights beheld him they looked in wonder, and said: "Is it not he, the innocent one, who will save us?" and they led him up to the temple. And behold, it was the time of the holy feast, when long ago the light had passed above them. And the youth stood there with great wonder and trouble in his heart, for he saw the suffering of the king, and how the knights longed and waited; he heard their voices in solemn tones, and the mourning voice of the king. And lo, while he looked, a wonderful glowing light passed above them. The knights all rose up with great joy in their hearts and looked at the boy, for the blessed miracle had come again, and it was a sign.

But Parsifal stood still with wonder and trouble in his heart; and when they asked if he knew what his eyes had seen, he only shook his head.

So the hope and joy went from the knights, and they led him out and sent him on his way.

And the boy Parsifal traveled down into the world. And as he went he met many wrongs, and he began to know what evils there were.

Now whenever one crossed his way, he went to it and handled it. But behold his mind was so pure and godlike that whenever he touched evil to learn what it was, it grew into some gentle thing in his hand. He went throughout the whole world seeking to know what evil was, but he was so mild and beautiful that wrongs fell away before him, or were healed as he passed. And he went on and on to the very kingdom of Evil, at last, and when its king saw him, he cried out with a great cry, and hurled his spear; but it only floated above the head of Parsifal, and when he seized it in his hand the whole kingdom melted away. And Parsifal found he was standing in a sunny meadow not far from the holy mountain; and he went up to the knights and stood with them in the temple, and his face was like the face of an angel. They say the king was healed as he looked, and that the wonderful light shone above them and was with them always,—forever.Contents

Where the quiet colored end of evening smiles,
Miles and miles.

—Robert Browning.

THE ANGELUS

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By Jean FranÇois Millet

THE ANGELUS