March dust. "Where shall I begin? It is all equally dull."

"Dip in," was my answer. " 'Tis no great matter where, but near the
beginning. What says the writer of his intention? What sets he out
to prove?"

"He says that is the Secret of the First Great Truth, descended straight
to him--"

"Many have said so much, yet have lied."

"He says that which is written in his book is through him but not of
him, past criticism and beyond cavil. 'Tis all in ancient and crabbed
characters going back to the threshold of my learning, but here upon
this passage-top where they are writ large I make them out to say,
'ONLY THE MAN WHO HAS DIED MANY TIMES BEGINS TO LIVE.'"

"A pregnant passage! Turn another page, and try again; I have an inkling
of the book already."

"'Tis poor, silly stuff," said the girl, slipping a hand covertly into
my own. "Why will you make me read it? I have a book on pomatums worth
twice as much as this."
`
"Nevertheless, dip in again, dear lady. What says the next heading?"
And with a little sigh at the heaviness of her task, Heru read out:
"SOMETIMES THE GODS THEMSELVES FORGET THE ANSWERS TO THEIR OWN RIDDLES."

"Lady, I knew it!