“`I dare say,’ I said. `What reason?’

“`Because otherwise,’ he said, pointing his pole out at the sky and the abyss, `we might worship that.’

“`What do you mean?’ I demanded.

“`Eternity,’ he said in his harsh voice, `the largest of the idols—­ the mightiest of the rivals of God.’

“`You mean pantheism and infinity and all that,’ I suggested.

“`I mean,’ he said with increasing vehemence, `that if there be a house for me in heaven it will either have a green lamp-post and a hedge, or something quite as positive and personal as a green lamp-post and a hedge.  I mean that God bade me love one spot and serve it, and do all things however wild in praise of it, so that this one spot might be a witness against all the infinities and the sophistries, that Paradise is somewhere and not anywhere, is something and not anything.  And I would not be so very much surprised if the house in heaven had a real green lamp-post after all.’

“With which he shouldered his pole and went striding down the perilous paths below, and left me alone with the eagles.  But since he went a fever of homelessness will often shake me.  I am troubled by rainy meadows and mud cabins that I have never seen; and I wonder whether America will endure.—­ Yours faithfully, Louis Hara.”

After a short silence Inglewood said:  “And, finally, we desire to put in as evidence the following document:—­

“This is to say that I am Ruth Davis, and have been housemaid to Mrs. I. Smith at `The Laurels’ in Croydon for the last six months.  When I came the lady was alone, with two children; she was not a widow, but her husband was away.  She was left with plenty of money and did not seem disturbed about him, though she often hoped he would be back soon.  She said he was rather eccentric and a little change did him good.  One evening last week I was bringing the tea-things out on to the lawn when I nearly dropped them.  The end of a long rake was suddenly stuck over the hedge, and planted like a jumping-pole; and over the hedge, just like a monkey on a stick, came a huge, horrible man, all hairy and ragged like Robinson Crusoe.  I screamed out, but my mistress didn’t even get out of her chair, but smiled and said he wanted shaving.  Then he sat down quite calmly at the garden table and took a cup of tea, and then I realized that this must be Mr. Smith himself.  He has stopped here ever since and does not really give much trouble, though I sometimes fancy he is a little weak in his head. 
                                                “Ruth Davis.

“P.S.—­I forgot to say that he looked round at the garden and said, very loud and strong:  `Oh, what a lovely place you’ve got;’ just as if he’d never seen it before.”