And so full am I of the knowledge of that Place, that scarce can I
believe that none here know; and because I have such difficulty, it may
be that I speak over familiarly of those things of which I know; and
heed not to explain much that it is needful that I should explain to
those who must read here, in this our present day. For there, as I stood
and looked out, I was less the man of years of _this_ age, than the
youth of _that_, with the natural knowledge of _that_ life which I had
gathered by living all my seventeen years of life there; though, until
that my first vision, I (of this Age) knew not of that other and Future
Existence; yet woke to it so naturally as may a man wake here in his bed
to the shining of the morning sun, and know it by name, and the meaning
of aught else. And yet, as I stood there in the vast embrasure, I had
also a knowledge, or memory, of this present life of ours, deep down
within me; but touched with a halo of dreams, and yet with a conscious
longing for One, known even there in a half memory as Mirdath.

As I have said, in my earliest memory, I mind that I stood in an
embrasure, high up in the side of the Pyramid, and looked outwards
through a queer spy-glass to the North-West. Aye, full of youth and with
an adventurous and yet half-fearful heart.

And in my brain was, as I have told, the knowledge that had come to me
in all the years of my life in the Redoubt; and yet until that moment,
this _Man of this Present Time_ had no knowledge of that future
existence; and now I stood and had suddenly the knowledge of a life
already spent in that strange land, and deeper within me the misty
knowings of this our present Age, and, maybe, also of some others.

To the North-West I looked through the queer spy-glass, and saw a