THE EQUINOX
and say “I WILL”; buton! and on! andon! And behind
you tireless strides along that old grey hound ever breathing
forth temptations upon you; filled with crafts, and subtleties,
and guiles, ever eager to lead you astray, ever ready to guide
you back. And presently so great grows the loneliness of the
Mountain that his very companionship becomes as a temptation
to you, you feel a friendliness in resisting him, a burning hope
that he will continue to tempt you, that his temptations and his
mocking words are better than no words at all. This only
happens far far up the mountain slope, some say not so far
from the summit; but take heed! for at this stage there is a
great precipice, and those who look round for the hound may
perchance stumble and fall—and the foot of that precipice is
the valley from which they came.
From here all is darkness, and there are no roads to guide
the pilgrim, and the sleuth-hound can no more be seen
because of the shadows of the night which obscure all things.
And how can one write further about these matters? for those
who have been so far and have returned, on account of the
darkness saw nothing, therefore they have held their tongues.
But there is an old parable which relates how the hound
that had tempted man the whole length of his perilous
journey, devoured him on the Summit of that Mystic Moun-
tain; and how that Ancient DOG was indeed GOD Himself.
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