Perhaps nothing happened at all. Perhaps all the wonders I seemed to
see, even the Road by which souls travel from There to Here and from
Here to There, and the Gates that were burned away, and the City of the
Mansions that descended, were but signs and symbols of mysteries which
as yet we cannot grasp or understand.
Whatever may be the truth as to this matter of my visions, I need hardly
add, however, that no one can be more anxious than I am myself to learn
in what way the Red-faced Man, speaking on behalf of our dominant race,
and the Hare, speaking as an appointed advocate of the subject animal
creation, finished their argument in the light of fuller knowledge.
Much also do I wonder which of them was proved to be right, a difficult
matter whereon I feel quite incompetent to express any views.
But you see at that moment I woke up. The edge of the Road on which I
was standing seemed to give way beneath me, and I fell into space as one
does in a nightmare. It is a very unpleasant sensation.
*****
I remember noticing afterwards that I could not have been long asleep.
When I began to dream I had only just blown out the candle, and when I
awoke again there was still a smouldering spark upon its wick.
But, as I have said, in that spirit-land wither I had journeyed is to be
found neither time nor space nor any other familiar thing.
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mahatma and the Hare, by H. Rider Haggard
*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE MAHATMA AND THE HARE ***
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