and rushing forward disappeared among the trees。
I have not seen this man again nor any other man。
The virtues of the wise are of fine brass。
〃Wong…Hi。〃
〃The next letter I have to read；〃 proceeded Arthur Inglewood； 〃will probably
make clear the nature of our client's curious but innocent experiment。
It is dated from a mountain village in California； and runs as follows：
〃Sir；A person answering to the rather extraordinary
description required certainly went； some time ago；
over the high pass of the Sierras on which I live and
of which I am probably the sole stationary inhabitant。
I keep a rudimentary tavern； rather ruder than a hut；
on the very top of this specially steep and threatening pass。
My name is Louis Hara； and the very name may puzzle you
about my nationality。 Well； it puzzles me a great deal。
When one has been for fifteen years without society it is hard
to have patriotism； and where there is not even a hamlet it
is difficult to invent a nation。 My father was an Irishman of
the fiercest and most free…shooting of the old Californian kind。
My mother was a Spaniard； proud of descent from the old
Spanish families round San Francisco； yet accused for all that
of some admixture of Red Indian blood。 I was well educated
and fond of music and books。 But； like many other hybrids；
I was too good or too bad for the world； and after attempting
many things I was glad enough to get a sufficient though
a lonely living in this little cabaret in the mountains。
In my solitude I fell into many of the ways of a savage。
Like an Eskimo； I was shapeless in winter； like a Red Indian； I wore
in hot summers nothing but a pair of leather trousers； with a
great straw hat as big as a parasol to defend me from the sun。
I had a bowie knife at my belt and a long gun under my arm；
and I dare say I produced a pretty wild impression on the few
peaceable travellers that could climb up to my place。
But I promise you I never looked as mad as that man did。
Compared with him I was Fifth Avenue。
〃I dare say that living under the very top of the Sierras has an odd
effect on the mind； one tends to think of those lonely rocks not as peaks
coming to a point； but rather as pillars holding up heaven itself。
Straight cliffs sail up and away beyond the hope of the eagles；
cliffs so tall that they seem to attract the stars and collect them as
sea…crags collect a mere glitter of phosphorous。 These terraces and towers
of rock do not； like smaller crests； seem to be the end of the world。
Rather they seem to be its awful beginning： its huge foundations。
We could almost fancy the mountain branching out above us like a tree
of stone； and carrying all those cosmic lights like a candelabrum。
For just as the peaks failed us； soaring impossibly far；
so the stars crowded us （as it seemed）； coming impossibly near。
The spheres burst about us more like thunderbolts hurled at the earth
than planets circling placidly about it。
〃All this may have driven me mad： I am not sure。 I know there is one
angle of the road down the pass where the rock leans out a little；
and on window nights I seem to hear it clashing overhead with other rocks
yes； city against city and citadel against citadel； far up into the night。
It was on such an evening that the strange man struggled up the pass。
Broadly speaking； only strange men did struggle up the pass。
But I had never seen one like this one before。
〃He carried （I cannot conceive why） a long； dilapidated
garden rake； all bearded and bedraggled with grasses；
so that it looked like the ensign of some old barbarian tribe。
His hair； which was as long and rank as the grass； hung down
below his huge shoulders； and such clothes as clung about him
were rags and tongues of red and yellow； so that he had the air
of being dressed like an Indian in feathers or autumn leaves。
The rake or pitchfork； or whatever it was； he used sometimes
as an alpenstock； sometimes （I was told） as a weapon。
I do not know why he should have used it as a weapon； for he had；
and afterwards showed me； an excellent six…shooter in his pocket。
‘But THAT；' he said； ‘I use only for peaceful purposes。'
I have no notion what he meant。
〃He sat down on the rough bench outside my inn and drank some wine
from the vineyards below； sighing with ecstasy over it like one
who had travelled long among alien； cruel things and found at last
something that he knew。 Then he sat staring rather foolishly at
the rude lantern of lead and coloured glass that hangs over my door。
It is old； but of no value； my grandmother gave it to me long ago：
she was devout； and it happens that the glass is painted with a crude
picture of Bethlehem and the Wise Men and the Star。 He seemed
so mesmerized with the transparent glow of Our Lady's blue gown and
the big gold star behind； that he led me also to look at the thing；
which I had not done for fourteen years。
〃Then he slowly withdrew his eyes from this and looked out eastward
where the road fell away below us。 The sunset sky was a vault
of rich velvet； fading away into mauve and silver round the edges
of the dark mountain ampitheatre； and between us and the ravine below
rose up out of the deeps and went up into the heights the straight
solitary rock we call Green Finger。 Of a queer volcanic colour；
and wrinkled all over with what looks undecipherable writing；
it hung there like a Babylonian pillar or needle。
〃The man silently stretched out his rake in that direction；
and before he spoke I knew what he meant。 Beyond the great green
rock in the purple sky hung a single star。
〃‘A star in the east；' he said in a strange hoarse voice like one of our
ancient eagles'。 ‘The wise men followed the star and found the house。
But if I followed the star； should I find the house？'
〃‘It depends perhaps；' I said； smiling； ‘on whether you are a wise man。'
I refrained from adding that he certainly didn't look it。
〃‘You may judge for yourself；' he answered。 ‘I am a man who left his own
house because he could no longer bear to be away from it。'
〃‘It certainly sounds paradoxical；' I said。
〃‘I heard my wife and children talking and saw them moving
about the room；' he continued； ‘and all the time I knew
they were walking and talking in another house thousands
of miles away； under the light of different skies； and beyond
the series of the seas。 I loved them with a devouring love；
because they seemed not only distant but unattainable。
Never did human creatures seem so dear and so desirable：
but I seemed like a cold ghost； therefore I cast off
their dust from my feet for a testimony。 Nay； I did more。
I spurned the world under my feet so that it swung full circle
like a treadmill。'
〃‘Do you really mean；' I cried； ‘that you have come right round the world？
Your speech is English； yet you are coming from the west。'
〃‘My pilgrimage is not yet accomplished；' he replied sadly。
‘I have become a pilgrim to cure myself of being an exile。'
〃Something in the word ‘pilgrim' awoke down in the roots
of my ruinous experience memories of what my fathers had
felt about the world； and of something from whence I came。
I looked again at the little pictured lantern at which I had
not looked for fourteen years。
〃‘My grandmother；' I said in a low tone； ‘would have said that we
were all in exile； and that no earthly house could cure the holy
home…sickness that forbids us rest。'
〃He was silent a long while； and watched a single eagle drift
out beyond the Green Finger into the darkening void。
〃Then he said； ‘I think your grandmother was right；' and stood up
leaning on his grassy pole。 ‘I think that must be the reason；'
he said‘the secret of this life of man； so ecstatic and so unappeased。
But I think there is more to be said。 I think God has given us
the love of special places； of a hearth and of a native land；
for a good reason。'
〃‘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。〃
A