It may be that she divined that I was about to destroy myself ... she may be quite capable....  But no, I do not understand, and shall never ask her.

But this I understand:  that it is the White who is Master here:  that though he wins but by a hair, yet he wins, he wins:  and since he wins, dance, dance, my heart.

I look for a race that shall resemble its Mother:  nimble-witted, light-minded, pious—­like her; all-human, ambidextrous, ambicephalous, two-eyed—­like her; and if, like her, they talk the English language with all the r’s turned into l’s, I shall not care.

They will be vegetable-eaters, I suppose, when all the meat now extant is eaten up:  but it is not certain that meat is good for men:  and if it is really good, then they will invent a meat:  for they will be her sons, and she, to the furthest cycle in which the female human mind is permitted to orbit, is, I swear, all-wise.

There was a preaching man—­a Scotchman he was, named Macintosh, or something like that—­who said that the last end of Man shall be well, and very well:  and she says the same:  and the agreement of these two makes a Truth.  And to that I now say:  Amen, Amen.

For I, Adam Jeffson, second Parent of the world, hereby lay down, ordain, and decree for all time, clearly perceiving it now:  That the one Motto and Watch-word essentially proper to each human individual, and to the whole Race of Man, as distinct from other races in heaven or in earth, was always, and remains, even this:  ’Though He slay me, yet will I trust in Him.’

THE END.