And now, Marcus, what shall I say? Out of the foolish, fond heart of me, like the babblings of a child, I wrote unto thee by the Egyptian post of this Jew who had interested me. After all, it was but a passing fancy. I thought that I had done with him when I had done with writing to you, but by the gods, no! If you could see me now, Marcus, you would know that I have lived ten thousand years since I wrote last.
In what terms shall a man write down that he has looked upon the face of God and in what language translate the strange emotions that possess him? I have seen a light that was not of the sun and yet was of a brightness surpassing the brightness of day upon the desert. I am confused and humbled. I have travelled far and seen much and upon all that I have seen it has been my habit to make reflection and converse regarding it, and if it seemed worth while, to make it the subject of conference with those more intelligent than myself. Things that seemed to me wonderful and passing knowledge I have come either to understand or to catalogue as occupying some fit and proper place in the vast unsearched areas of the cosmos beyond the power of man to know.
But all mystery and all marvel is to-day as nothing. For, Marcus, I have looked upon the face of the In-
