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 Illustrations, decorations, and cover 
 design by 
 
 Catherine M. Richter 
 
 Copyright, 1915 
 Sherman, French & Company 
 
 7 st 
 
 DEC 17 1915 
 
 'CU41694 4 
 *>*#. / ' 
 
>a G- 
 
 
 
 THE QUEST 
 OF THE RING 
 
 
 
 V. 
 
 
 
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 N the days before the fairies forsook 
 the haunts of men, there lived in a far 
 country a simple peasant Timon and 
 his wife Asdis. For many years they 
 were childless and this was a great sorrow 
 to both ; but finally in answer to their many 
 prayers, there was born unto them a son 
 whose name was called Philmon. Ten- 
 derly they watched over him and nurtured 
 him ; Asdis crooned the sweetest and softest 
 lullabies for his baby ears and Timon often 
 stood and looked down at him, all the love 
 of his simple father heart shining through 
 his eyes, half afraid even to touch this frail, 
 delicate little creature that had been given 
 unto his keeping. 
 
 All too swiftly, it seemed, the years of 
 Philmon's life widened from babyhood 
 into boyhood. He was a goodly child and 
 fair to look upon, and in all the countryside 
 around there was no boy like unto him in 
 fairness or in strength. In the summer 
 
months he went into the fields with his 
 father and learned the secrets of growing 
 things; learned the times of planting and 
 of reaping, learned the signs of fair weather 
 and of storms ; watched how the bees stored 
 away their honey. And in the long winter 
 evenings he would sit before the fire, and 
 his mother, as she spun, would tell him all 
 the legends and stories of the little earth 
 people, for Asdis was wise in all the lore of 
 sprites and of fairies. 
 
 As Philmon grew, the years of Timon 
 became many. The hair at his temples 
 whitened, his steps were slower, his eyes 
 were duller, his face more wrinkled than in 
 the days of the boy's childhood. Thus it 
 was that when he was grown, Philmon 
 tilled the fields alone just as his father had 
 tilled them before him, hearkening in all 
 things unto his father's counsel and advice. 
 Timon, also, told him of the things that had 
 been, told him of the beginning of all 
 
 things, and of the great men who had been 
 
 - 
 
 
before him; taught him the signs of the 
 stars, the old folk songs and legends and all 
 the many things he had learned in the years 
 of his life ; and to all this Philmon listened 
 diligently, so that none was wiser than he 
 in the knowledge that came from living. 
 
 Now it so happened that one summer's 
 day, as Philmon was working in his father's 
 fields, he became wearied, and laid him 
 down in the shade of a great oak tree to 
 rest. The fragrance of green, growing 
 things came to him, the lazy hum of tiny 
 winged creatures sounded in his ears, 
 patches of a too brilliant sky made him half 
 close his eyes, and the unbroken peaceful- 
 ness of all things about him brought over 
 him such a drowsiness that in a short while 
 he fell into a deep sleep. Shadows flitted 
 before his eyes, shapes of things that he 
 could not distinguish ; all that he could un- 
 derstand was that they were happy with a 
 happiness that he had never known. Then 
 there came strains of music, faint at first, 
 
 
 
 
flf 
 
 but growing more and more distinct, rising 
 and falling in a melody so sweet that all the 
 cares and the longings of his heart seemed 
 to flee away; and in the midst of the music 
 there were words, — words so wonderful 
 that while he understood them not, yet he 
 felt that he should understand ; words that 
 he had known once long since, but had 
 strangely forgotten. The music stopped; 
 there was a hush, a deep silence, and in the 
 mist there appeared a Ring of the purest 
 gold, burnished until it shone like the sun, 
 so that it was impossible to look upon it 
 steadily. For a moment it hung there, and 
 then just as suddenly as it had come, so it 
 vanished; and a voice, — soft, low, allur- 
 ingly sweet, — called : 
 
 "Philmon, Philmon, seek thou the 
 Ring!" 
 
 He awoke. So clear and so vivid was 
 the impression that for a time he could 
 scarcely persuade himself that it was not a 
 reality. The music still sounded in his 
 

 ears, the Ring still gleamed before his 
 eyes, and that voice, so soft, so alluringly 
 sweet, continued to say : 
 
 "Philmon, Philmon, seek thou the 
 Ring!" 
 
 Thoughtfully he worked, wondering 
 whether there were a Ring and if there 
 were, where it should be sought; and grad- 
 ually it became the supreme desire of his 
 heart, the thing he wanted before all oth- 
 ers. It seemed that to possess it would be 
 the fulfillment of all his hopes and striv- 
 ings, of all the impulses and the longings 
 that were good and right. 
 
 Lower and lower sank the sun, and soon 
 Philmon turned his face homeward. He 
 told the story of all he had seen and heard 
 to Asdis and said : 
 
 "O mother Asdis, is there a Ring like 
 unto this one? Or was my dream only a 
 dream?" 
 
 Asdis kissed him. 
 
 "Yes, my son, there is a Ring. Come 
 
 (Lfl 
 
 ^^ ^a<^ t qy***€P£ i 
 
with me and I will tell thee the story of it, 
 even as the fairies have told it to me." 
 
 She led the way to a rude bench just out- 
 side the doorway, whence they might see 
 the sunset. Philmon seated himself at her 
 feet. For a time she sat silent, looking 
 over into the west. The golden rim of the 
 sun was just touching the tips of the blue, 
 far-distant mountains, and was gradually 
 gathering unto itself the golden splendor 
 that marks its departing; and far up in the 
 heavens great masses of cloud began to 
 gleam in the growing glory. Then she be- 
 gan: 
 
 "THE STORY OF THE RING 
 
 "Once, a long, long time ago, there lived 
 in the east country a great king who was 
 wiser than any man had been before him. 
 And this king studied diligently the things 
 of magic and the books which had to do 
 with the elf people, seeking how he might 
 control elves and fairies that they should 
 
 ^i^^^f^W^^T^ 
 
do his bidding. He caused to be brought 
 unto him all the priests and all the wise 
 men of his vast country that they might 
 teach him their rites and their wisdom. 
 
 "Now this king, whose name was Rhaj- 
 mah, was a mighty king. Thousands of 
 soldiers awaited his command and his war 
 chariots were the dread of all his enemies. 
 His lands were broad and fertile, his treas- 
 uries were full to overflowing, and the pal- 
 ace he reared unto himself was such that 
 no man hath seen the like of it for beauty 
 or for splendor. Around him were all the 
 luxuries the mind could desire; innumer- 
 
 «? 
 
 i' 
 
 s : 
 
 able slaves fulfilled his slightest wish, his 
 raiment was made of the softest and finest 
 of silk and of flaxcloth ; and yet with all his 
 might, with all his wealth, with all his 
 splendor and his luxury, King Rhajmah 
 was unhappy 
 
 "In vain did he try to overcome that 
 
 
 spirit of discontent. Magnificent feasts 
 and festivals were decreed, and he sought 
 
 A^ ZSa* ^5> «^L*h^ C£a«c1 v a <2\>T<o52Lv k ° A 
 
to forget his unhappiness in wine and in 
 dancing; great conquests were planned and 
 he hoped that in the heat of battle or in the 
 flush of victory there might come some mo- 
 ment of happiness. Yet the feasting and 
 the dancing, the fighting and the overcom- 
 ing, profited him nothing; and at last, in a 
 frenzy of melancholy and disappointment, 
 he cried: 
 
 " 'I am cursed, cursed of the gods, and I 
 would that I were dead!' 
 
 "About this time there came to the pal- 
 ace rumors of an old witchwife whose in- 
 cantations were so mighty that she con- 
 trolled for a short space even the spirits of 
 those who were dead. Eagerly the king 
 inquired after her, and sent slaves unto her, 
 bearing rich gifts of gold and silver and 
 entreating her to come to his palace 
 Nihrda. For a long time she refused, say- 
 ing: 
 
 " 'Who am I that I should enter kings' 
 houses?' 
 
"But finally she was persuaded and was 
 conducted in state to the dwelling place of 
 Rhajmah. 
 
 "The king awaited her impatiently. 
 When she was come and had worshipped 
 him, he bade her arise and said unto her: 
 
 " 'Woman, there have come rumors to 
 my ears saying that thou art wise in all 
 manner of incantations. Tell me, I pray 
 thee, how I may gain control over elves 
 and gnomes, and I will reward thee richly.' 
 
 "And the witchwife replied : 
 
 ' 'O King, who am I that thou shouldst 
 honor me? Knowest thou not that the elf 
 folk are stubborn people, that they rebel 
 against control? Behold, I know the de- 
 sire of thy heart. Thou wishest happiness 
 without mar or blemish, and thou seekest 
 it through the earth people, who only are 
 happy. But, O King, thinkest thou alone 
 to be happy among mortal men? Seest 
 thou not thy people, how they toil and 
 labor that thou mayest have thy luxury and 
 
thy splendor? Hearest thou not their 
 groanings under a burden that is too great? 
 Yea, I will tell thee what thou hast asked; j <j 
 I will give thee a spell so mighty that even 
 the elf folk must bend before it; but do 
 thou, O King, beware! I have looked into 
 the future and I know what it is permitted 
 no mortal to know. As the thoughts of 
 thy heart are good, so shall thy happiness 
 bless thee; but as they are evil, so shall it 
 curse thee!' 
 
 "She moved towards him until her face, 
 brown and wrinkled, was close unto his. 
 
 " 'Here, O King, is thy spell. At mid- 
 night in thy chamber kindle an small fire, 
 and when it is bright, cast into it this stone 
 which I give thee. And lo, the stone will 
 burn, first red, then blue, then green. And 
 when the stone burns red, thou shalt call, 
 "Cirjanus!" and when the stone burns blue, 
 thou shalt call, "Cirjanus!" and when the 
 stone burns green, thou shalt say, "Cirja- 
 nus, in the name of the Burning Stone, I 
 
 
 
summon thee!" and forthwith the elf Cirja- 
 nus will stand before thee, who will do thy 
 bidding!' 
 
 "When she had done speaking, she van- 
 ished, no man knew whither, and was never 
 seen more. 
 
 "The king did all the things even as the 
 witchwife had told him. He cast the 
 stone into the fire and it burned red, and 
 he called, 'Cirjanus!'; it burned blue and 
 he called, 'CirjanusF ; and it burned green, 
 whereat he cried in an exceeding loud 
 voice, 'Cirjanus, in the name of the Burn- 
 ing Stone, I summon thee!' And when he 
 had finished, behold there stood before him 
 an elf scarcely greater than his thumb, who 
 bowed before him and said : 
 
 ''Master, I have heard thy summons 
 
 and am come. Tell me whatsoever thou 
 
 desirest, and it shall be even as thou sayest!' 
 
 "And the king answered and said : 
 
 " 'O Cirjanus, wise men say that only the 
 
 fairies and the elves and the gnomes are 
 
 ul 
 
happy on the earth. I, too, fain would be 
 happy, but of myself cannot; and now I 
 command thee by the power I hold over 
 thee that thou fashion me a Ring so won- 
 drous, so beautiful, that to possess it is to 
 be altogether happy!' 
 
 "Then Cirjanus: 
 
 " 'Sire, the task thou hast given me is 
 hard, and many days must pass ere it can be. 
 fulfilled. But behold on the third and 
 twentieth day following this one, at mid- 
 night, I will bring unto thee that which 
 thou wouldst have !' 
 
 "Slowly the days passed for the king, and 
 the hours were long from sunrise to sunset 
 and from sunset to sunrise. But the elf 
 Cirjanus went to the sprites of sunlight and 
 moonlight, and said: 
 
 " 'Give me, I pray thee, of thy stores of 
 gold and silver.' And they gave unto him. 
 
 "He went unto the fairies which have 
 watch over children and said: 
 
 " 'Give me, I pray thee, some of the sub- 
 
stance of smiles and of children's laugh- 
 ter.' And it was given him even as he had 
 asked. 
 
 "He went unto the flower folk and said, 
 
 " 'Give me, O flower people, of thy 
 sweetness and thy beauty,' and they gave. 
 
 "And last of all he went to the gnomes 
 that dig in the earth, and commanded 
 them, saying, 
 
 " 'Dig me, O gnomes, the purest and 
 finest of earth gold. Burn it with fire, cast 
 out all dross and all blemish, until it is yel- 
 low as sunlight in the morning!' And it 
 was done even as he had said. 
 
 "Then out of the gold of sunlight, the 
 silver of moonlight, the substance of smiles 
 and the laughter of children, out of the 
 sweetness and beauty of flowers, and the 
 purest of earth gold, Cirjanus by the magic 
 of his power fashioned a Ring which was 
 called the Ring of Happiness; and on the 
 third and twentieth day gave he it unto 
 King Rhajmah even as he had said. And 
 
behold, when the king had placed the Ring 
 on his finger, all care and worry and all 
 manner of trouble left him, and he laughed 
 as only children who are pure and innocent 
 laugh. A great joy was upon him, and he 
 sang songs and proclaimed feasts because 
 his heart was happy, and Nihrda reechoed 
 with the shouts of men drunken with wine. 
 
 "In the midst of his feasting there sud- 
 denly appeared in his great hall three gray- 
 clad old men. No man knew how they 
 came nor whence, for approaches to the 
 palace were guarded ; but as they entered, 
 a sudden silence fell upon all that were in 
 that house. And the beggars lifted up 
 their voices and cried unto the king, and 
 the one said: 
 
 " 'O King, we hunger. Give us to eat!' 
 
 "And the other: 
 
 " 'O King, we thirst, give us to drink!' 
 
 "And the other: 
 
 " 'O King, the night is dark and stormy; 
 
 "And the other: 
 " 'O King, the 
 give us shelter!' 
 
 b^ 
 

 "Forthwith the king was wroth and com- 
 manded his guardsmen, saying: 
 
 " 'Cast them out who dare intrude upon 
 my pleasure! What care I, ye gray beg- 
 gars, whether ye hunger or thirst or perish 
 in the storm?' 
 
 "But when the guards would lay hands 
 upon them, they could not, for such was 
 the virtue of the old men that none could 
 do them violence against their will. And 
 all the people that were there marvelled at 
 this, and said: 
 
 " 'Surely these men are gods!' 
 
 "Then spake the old men once more. 
 Said the first: 
 
 " 'O King who alone art happy among 
 men, my curse be upon thee! May thine 
 enemies confound thee and overcome thee!' 
 
 "And the second: 
 
 " 'O King who art happier than all mor- 
 tal men, my curse be upon thee ! May thy 
 people rise up against thee and destroy 
 thee !' 
 
"And the third : 
 
 " 'O King who possessest the Ring of 
 Happiness, my curse be upon thee! In 
 thy death hour may thy Ring depart from 
 thee and leave thee to die in anguish and 
 pain as do other men!' 
 
 "And when they had done speaking, 
 they vanished. Now a great fear smote 
 the hearts of all who heard these words and 
 their limbs trembled because they were 
 afraid. But the king laughed and cried: 
 
 "'Come, let us eat and drink! They 
 were but three beggar men who cursed me, 
 and they are gone!' 
 
 "Forthwith the feasting and the shout- 
 ing started anew. 
 
 "Now the rumor of these revelries and 
 festivals at the palace of the king went 
 abroad through all the country and came 
 unto the ears of the people, and they mur- 
 mured, saying: 
 
 " 'Behold, the king doth feast in glory 
 and splendor in his palace Nihrda, and we 
 
must toil in the fields from sunrise until 
 sunset that we may pay the taxes he layeth 
 upon us. Rhajmah is not a good king nor 
 a just, else he would see our labor and give 
 us rest.' 
 
 "And the servants of the king brought 
 him tidings that his people murmured 
 against him and cried for a new king. But 
 Rhajmah, being happy, gave no heed. 
 
 "The rumor came to the enemies of the 
 king who were beyond his borders, and 
 they took counsel one with the other and 
 exhorted one another, saying: 
 
 " 'Come, let us go up against Rhajmah 
 and take his cities and govern his peo- 
 ple!"' 
 
 Asdis paused for a time and looked long 
 and steadily westward. Over the blue- 
 black rim of the mountains there still hov- 
 ered a faint reddish glow; a few stars 
 twinkled bravely in the upper heavens, and 
 on the face of the earth was the cool, blue 
 mist of the evening. Then she continued : 
 
fix 
 
 7 -5^5 
 
 1/ 
 
 "The enemies of the king gathered unto 
 themselves great armies, and came across 
 the borders of Rhajmah's land. Messen- 
 gers came unto the king also and said : 
 
 " 'O lord, who art mighty and great, lo, 
 thine enemies from across thy borders do 
 come up against thee, and the numbers of 
 their armies are like unto the stars!' 
 
 "But the king was happy, and made 
 merry and heeded not the sayings that came 
 to him from afar. When the armies that 
 were hostile came into Rhajmah's land, the 
 people that were in that country spake unto 
 one another and said: 
 
 " 'King Rhajmah is an unjust king who 
 requireth from us all that we have. When 
 we hunger, he f easteth ; when we shiver in 
 the frosts of the night time, he maketh 
 merry with wine and dancing; and when 
 our enemies come against us to devastate 
 our fields and destroy our labors and carry 
 us off into captivity, lo, he but laugheth, 
 and doth not protect us! Let us rise up 
 
 
 
 ^KtSlsSS^^^i^^ 
 
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 against him and make us a new king to rule 
 over us and defend us!' 
 
 "And messengers came unto the king, 
 
 saying: 
 
 " 'O King, who art mighty and great and 
 wise before all other men, thine enemies 
 draw nearer; they lay waste thy land and 
 burn the fruits of the soil with fire. More- 
 over thy people doth rise up against thee, 
 to overthrow thee, and crieth for a new 
 king!' 
 
 "Now while all this was done, the fairies 
 who are the guardians of men took counsel. 
 And they said one to another : 
 
 " 'Behold this King Rhajmah, how he 
 feasteth, how he drinketh! His people do 
 groan under their burdens; they fall, they 
 die, and the land is filled with the sound 
 of their complaining. King Rhajmah is 
 not worthy to have the Ring. Let us take 
 it away from him and keep it in our care, 
 and grant it unto those who by their good- 
 ness are worthy to possess it!' 
 
 & 
 
"So the fairies came by night and took 
 from off the finger of Rhajmah the Ring 
 which was the Ring of Happiness. And 
 joy and laughter departed from the heart 
 of the king, and terrible dreams visited 
 him. 
 
 "Now when the morning was come and 
 Rhajmah had awakened, a great burden 
 seemed to be upon him, and cares came 
 unto him. He looked at his hand and the 
 Ring was not there. Forthwith a great 
 terror seized him. And at the same time 
 a runner came unto him and said : 
 
 " 'O King, thine enemies are upon thee ; 
 thy captains flee before them as chaff be- 
 fore a strong wind ; and they are close unto 
 thy palace. Thy people also rise up 
 against thee and curse thee, so that the land 
 is filled with strife and contention!' 
 
 "Even as he spoke, there were shouts and 
 cries, and the enemies of the king laid siege 
 on Nihrda, his palace. And a fear greater 
 than the fear of death smote the heart of 
 
Rhajmah, and he rushed to the top of a 
 wall that he might see some way of escape. 
 As he stood there, an arrow dipped in poi- 
 son pierced his breast and he cried out in a 
 loud voice: 
 
 " 'O thou three gray beggar men, have 
 pity, have mercy upon me!' 
 
 "And he died in pain and in agony. His 
 enemies burned his city, burned his palace, 
 so that no trace of it was left upon the face 
 of the earth save a vast mound of flame 
 blackened stones. 
 
 "The fairies have kept the Ring, Phil- 
 mon, my son. Unto every man they show 
 it; unto every man comes the call that has 
 come to thee ; and every man seeketh after 
 it. Some seek in one way, some in another, 
 but all men seek. Yet it is only unto him 
 who is worthy, unto him who searcheth 
 diligently, unfalteringly, that it is granted 
 to have the Ring. And the song thou 
 heardest is the Ring Song, which no man 
 understandeth until he seeth the Ring." 
 
f-9 A 
 
 She kissed him tenderly and whispered : 
 "Go, my son. As thy heart bids thee and 
 as the fairies bid thee, seek thou the Ring. 
 And if thou seekest with all thy heart and 
 with all thy strength, then two fairies will 
 go with thee to keep thee and shield thee 
 from harm, and the names of those fairies 
 are Faith and Hope." 
 
 Once more she kissed him, and then left 
 him to muse and to ponder in the shadows 
 of the stars. 
 
 Now there lived in this same country a 
 maiden passing beautiful. Tender were 
 her eyes and blue, blue as the sea is at even ; 
 white was her skin and faintly flushed with 
 rich, warm heart blood; red were her lips 
 and sweet; and her hair was a glory, a halo. 
 And this maiden was kind and good so 
 that all the country folk loved her even as 
 their own daughters. Philmon likewise 
 loved her, with all the earnestness and all 
 

 the strength of his pure and simple heart, 
 and he came unto her and told her the 
 things that he had learned. When he had 
 finished he said : 
 
 "And I go, Rama, to search for the Ring 
 Whither my journey taketh me I know not 
 and the day of my returning I cannot tell. 
 Must I go alone? The vision cometh to 
 all people; haply thou hast seen it and 
 would seek even as I shall seek. Without 
 thee, the way will be rough and weary, but 
 with thee — O Rama, Rama, heart of my 
 heart, soul of my soul, wilt thou seek the 
 Ring with me?" 
 
 For just a moment did she pause, and 
 then the downcast eyes were raised and 
 looked fearlessly, lovingly, full into his. 
 Softly her voice broke the silence: 
 
 "Yes, Philmon, I will go and search for 
 the Ring with thee !" 
 
 He pressed her to his heart and kissed 
 her. 
 
 "Rama," he whispered tenderly, "me- 
 
 
 * 
 
 p. 
 
thinks I hear the Ring Song even now." 
 
 Thus it was that Philmon and Rama set 
 out in search of the Ring which is the Ring 
 of Happiness, and Timon and Asdis 
 blessed them. 
 
 First they turned toward the cities of 
 men. "For," reasoned they, "if all men 
 have seen this vision, perchance we may 
 learn from them where we should seek." 
 On their way they met a merchant return- 
 ing from a far country with his wares laden 
 on beasts of burden. And Philmon ad- 
 dressed him, saying: 
 
 "Good sire, we seek the Ring of Happi- 
 ness. Canst thou tell us where it may be 
 found?" 
 
 And the merchant, laughing loudly, 
 said: 
 
 "Yes, my good people, I can tell thee. 
 The Ring, which I have seen with mine 
 own eyes, cometh with the abundance of 
 riches. Unto him who hath the most, the 
 Ring is added. Wherefore do I ply my 
 
la). 
 
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 $ pi 
 
 u 
 
trade diligently, that I may gain wealth. 
 Go thou and do likewise." 
 
 Philmon thanked him and he and Rama 
 hastened on, a little saddened. Was the 
 Ring, then, to be gained so readily? Was 
 this wonder of beauty merely the reward 
 of gaining wealth? Thus they reasoned 
 one with the other. As they hurried on- 
 ward he drew her closer. Was it just his 
 fancy, or, when he looked into her eyes, 
 so brave, so blue, was there not a shimmer 
 of brightness somewhere, faint strains of a 
 too sweet music — ? 
 
 After a season they came into a great 
 city, one of the greatest of the cities of men. 
 And there they saw beggars, and people so 
 poor that they had scarce enough to eat; 
 saw evil men whose eyes were cunning and 
 cruel. All was hurry and tumult and con- 
 fusion ; men moved hither and thither, this 
 way and that; caravans sometimes blocked 
 the streets, and above the general hubbub 
 rose the voices of merchants crvinp- their 
 
 
 rose the voices of merchants crying their 
 
wares. Past the beggars and the poor, 
 
 
 
 past the men with evil eyes, through the 
 shifting throngs, they hastened until they 
 came to the square of the market place. 
 There they paused a moment in the shelter 
 of an overhanging roof, and looked about 
 them. 
 
 "Can it be," mused Philmon, "that the 
 Ring is the reward of such labor as this? 
 Is the happiness of one founded on the 
 misery and the suffering of another? All 
 men cannot have riches and honor, yet all 
 men see and seek the Ring! Nay, there 
 must be some mistake; the fairies could not 
 
 
 have meant this!" 
 
 As they stood there, reasoning thus with 
 
 one another, it chanced that an old scholar 
 passed that way. So venerable was his 
 face, so wise seemed his eyes, that Philmon 
 detained him and said: 
 
 "Master, we seek the Ring of Happi- 
 ness. Hast thou heard of it, or knowest 
 thou aught of where it may be found?" 
 
The old man looked at them a moment 
 and then said scornfully: 
 
 "Many there be who search for this 
 Ring, but all save a very few, such as I, go 
 astray. Wisdom and learning one must 
 have before he is accounted worthy of pos- 
 sessing it!" 
 
 "And where, good master, may this wis- 
 dom whereof thou speakest be found?" 
 asked Rama. 
 
 "In books, child, and in the teachings of 
 great philosophers. Look you over this 
 market place ; see how men toil and sweat 
 that they may have riches. They think 
 they strive after happiness when they try 
 to be rich, but to the wise man all this is as 
 nothing. He knoweth that wealth is but 
 an empty thing, and seeketh after that 
 which is lasting, — wisdom." 
 
 So saying, he left them. But hardly had 
 he passed when they noticed a small crowd 
 gathered about a teacher in one corner of 
 the square. Going thither, they listened to 
 

 
 tf 
 
 
 tv 
 
 la). ©| %£ E 
 
 the words he spoke, which were after this 
 fashion : 
 
 "Wherefore do ye struggle, O ye men? 
 Know ye not that the work of your hands 
 will crumble, perchance even before your 
 own eyes? Wherefore do ye toil to gather 
 unto yourselves great wealth, or honor, or 
 fame? Ye say, 'We would be happy!' and 
 ye say well, for that is the end of all being. 
 But think ye that so pure and godlike a 
 thing as happiness can be made of such 
 dross as gold or idle fame? Behold, when 
 ye possess them, they crumble in your 
 hands even as dust and become of little 
 value in your sight. Wherefore do ye 
 delve in books and the teachings of other 
 men, wherefore do ye seek after wisdom? 
 Can ye by thinking make yourselves joyful, 
 or by reasoning make yourselves glad? 
 Happiness is a divine thing, and ye cannot 
 
 i :. „:_ *„i . i : :„ „ 
 
 
 know it since ye are mortal ; happiness is a 
 perfect thing, and ye cannot understand it 
 because ye are imperfect. Therefore are 
 
' 'S...L .. 5LX -a- 
 
 your lives consumed in vanity, for ye con- 
 tinually do strive after that which ye can 
 never attain." 
 
 The words of the speaker troubled Phil- 
 mon, so that he whispered to Rama: 
 
 "Come, let us go onward, for the words 
 which this man speaketh are true and yet 
 not true, and I like them not." 
 
 On the following day they found a man 
 all unkempt and unclean, lying drunken by 
 the wayside ; and they ministered unto him. 
 When he could talk they questioned him 
 also, even as they had inquired of others, 
 and he answered: 
 
 "The Ring of Happiness? Ha! Ha! 
 Why here it is. There is one at the bot- 
 tom of every wine cask!" And he raised 
 a big finger whereon was a ring of brass, 
 all blackened and tarnished. 
 
 "Nay, nay, my friend, you are mis- 
 taken. This is not the Ring nor even like 
 it!" 
 
 "Not like it! See it gleam and glow! 
 
 
 

 Wine is happiness and a Ring lies at the 
 bottom of every cask!" 
 
 For many, many years they lived in this 
 city, searching its highways and its byways, 
 seeing its miseries and sorrows, and still 
 finding no trace of the Ring, when one day 
 it so happened that they chanced upon a 
 dying man in one of the filthy little by- 
 streets that they found so common in cer- 
 tain quarters. And the man writhed in his 
 agony, and begged for water, so that Rama 
 pillowed his head in her lap, while Phil- 
 mon brought water from a fountain hard 
 by. When his pain was abated, the dying 
 man looked at the two and such was his 
 insight that he read a story in the little evi- 
 dences of discouragement he saw in their 
 faces, and said gently: 
 
 "Are ye searching after the Ring of 
 Happiness, ye twain?" 
 
 Wondering that he should have guessed 
 so well, they told him they were. 
 
 "Then be ye not discouraged. Go ye 
 
into the fields, the forests. Listen to the 
 songs that the birds sing and brooks mur- 
 mur; listen to the stories that the stones 
 tell; inquire. even of the stars and learn 
 their secrets, and perchance thou wilt find 
 some trace of that for which thou seekest." 
 
 His breath began to come in gasps, but 
 still he went on : 
 
 "All — my life — have I sought — here; 
 but I — could not find — it. — Profit ye — by 
 my example." 
 
 A moment he struggled, and then the 
 muscles relaxed and stiffened. Men bore 
 him away and buried him, and they two 
 went on. And when they wearied of 
 searching in the cities of men, Philmon 
 said unto Rama: 
 
 "Let us do even as the dying man hath 
 taught us ; let us seek the Ring in the fields 
 and forests, and among the wild, growing 
 things. Here all is turmoil and unrest; 
 each seeketh after the desires of his own 
 heart and doeth as his self biddeth him. 
 
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 Perchance where the air is untainted and 
 the sunshine pure, the Ring may be hid." 
 
 So they departed from the city and came 
 first unto the farm lands, and then to the 
 great forests that cover the earth like a 
 garment. For a long time they searched 
 thus, nor were they alone in their seeking. 
 On all sides of them were men and women 
 who sought the Ring for which they sought, 
 and ever and anon came the cry, "I have 
 found it!" But each time, when they has- 
 tened to the spot, the ring they saw was a 
 false one, and they departed again, sad- 
 dened. With the fleeting years their 
 youth and their vigor passed, and the 
 hopes that once they had, began to waver. 
 Yet they searched with shining eyes, and in 
 spite of fears and disappointments there 
 crept into their faces such a look of peace 
 and of trust that men looked on them won- 
 
 
 dering what manner of people these were. 
 
 And in their wanderings they came upon 
 
 a hermit who lived in the midst of a thick 
 
and gloomy forest whither men rarely ven- 
 tured to go because of its darkness. The 
 hermit was an old man whose back was 
 bent with the burden of years, and Philmon 
 had to speak in a loud voice that he might 
 hear. And Philmon inquired of him, say- 
 ing: 
 
 "My father, we are seeking for the Ring 
 of Happiness, and have sought these many 
 years. Knowest thou aught of it?" 
 When he heard, the old man laughed : 
 "And ye seek the Ring?" he cried in his 
 high, cracked voice. "So do most men. 
 Fools, they wander up and down the face 
 of the earth, and since they fear lest their 
 neighbors may find the Ring, they lie, they 
 hate, they cower, they fear, and their 
 hearts are filled with much evil. Can hap- 
 piness be the fruit of such striving? Come 
 ye away from among them who cause this 
 wrong; live with thyself and learn thou the 
 secrets of things. The Ring thou seekest 
 is but a myth, an old wives' tale. Thou 
 
canst never be happy save in part. I, too, 
 once sought even as thou hast sought; but 
 I was wise, and got me away from the com- 
 pany of men and came hither unto this for- 
 est, in whose shadows I have learned many 
 things." 
 
 Rama's head sank, and the eyes, so ten- 
 der, so blue, so brave, filled with tears. 
 
 "Philmon, Philmon," she sobbed, "have 
 we sought all these years and in vain? 
 Have all our hopes and our fears been for 
 naught?" 
 
 "Nay, nay," Philmon answered as he 
 drew her to him, "thou art but weary, my 
 heart." 
 
 And turning to the old man he cried : 
 
 "Thou liest; the gloom and the darkness 
 of the forest have crept into thy veins till 
 thy heart is as dark as its shadows. There 
 is a Ring, for I have seen it in a dream, and 
 my heart telleth me that the dream is true." 
 
 So saying, they turned away and left the 
 hermit to his darkness. 
 
 

 One day at even, as they were walking 
 through the fields, fields bright and beauti- 
 ful with flowers, Rama suddenly stopped. 
 
 "Listen," she whispered; "I hear some 
 one calling." 
 
 Philmon listened intently, but heard 
 nothing. 
 
 "Come, Rama," he said, "it was but the 
 wind thou heardst." 
 
 "Nay," she answered, "I hear it even 
 now, a voice that calls me, calls, 'Rama! 
 Rama!'" 
 
 Still Philmon heard nothing. 
 
 "I must go, Philmon," she continued, 
 "for still the voice calls. Tarry here and 
 I will come back to thee." 
 
 So Philmon sat him down on a great 
 stone to rest and to wait, and as he sat 
 there, behold, a deep sleep came upon him, 
 and strange visions of sorrow and pain 
 flitted before his sleeping eyes. When he 
 awoke, the morning sun shone brightly out 
 of a glorious sky. Everything was as it 
 
 
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 had been the evening before and yet there 
 was something — Where was Rama? 
 
 Quickly he arose and looked about for 
 her, thinking that she might be gathering 
 of the flowers near by. Far as he could see, 
 there was no living creature. He called 
 to her many times, but there came no an- 
 swer save the faint stir of the morning wind 
 in the fields. He hurried in the way she 
 had gone, hoping to find her; but still he 
 saw her not nor heard any reply to his calls. 
 A fear came over him and smote his heart, 
 a vague, indefinable sense of something 
 lost; vainly did he struggle with it to sup- 
 press it; always it would come again. 
 How well he remembered her words, the 
 last she had spoken to him : 
 
 "I must go, Philmon, for still a voice 
 calls." 
 
 The "voice," the "voice" ; yes, that was 
 it. Yet what voice? Could it have 
 been—? No! No! 
 
 "Rama!" he shouted, "Rama!" in an 
 
 
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 agony of suspense, refusing to believe his 
 thought, yet fearing that it was true. And 
 in answer came only an empty silence. 
 
 Heartsick, sorrowing, and alone, he 
 turned and retraced his steps. Great, 
 blinding tears filled his eyes, and he stum- 
 bled aimlessly onward, giving little heed 
 to the path that he took, and had it not 
 been for his guardian fairies, Faith and 
 Hope, he had surely gone astray and had 
 been lost. But they were brave fairies and 
 strong, and when he stumbled, or sank 
 down in his pain, they bore him up in 
 their arms and comforted him. 
 
 After many days had passed and the 
 wound in his heart was soothed somewhat, 
 Philmon lifted up his eyes and looked 
 about him, and behold he was in a strange 
 country, the Land of the Sunset, a land of 
 deep, thickly wooded ravines, where soft 
 vagrant breezes faintly rustled the multi- 
 colored leaves, a land of gloriously tinted 
 skies, a land strangely beautiful, strange in 
 
 S2S 
 
that there was an indescribable sense of 
 sadness in its beauty and its splendor. And 
 all about him he saw other folk moving on- 
 ward, ever onward, toward the golden 
 heart of glory in the western sky. Some 
 there were who hasted, as though they 
 would finish something and the time were 
 getting short; and others there were who 
 loitered as though loath to leave this land 
 of brightness and color. But ever and 
 anon there came a chill, cold blast, and the 
 leaves rattled, and these loiterers shivered 
 in its breath. The people, he saw, too, 
 were for the most part old folk Whose hair 
 was white and long, whose faces were 
 wrinkled, and whose eyes were sunken and 
 dim. He looked on himself, and lo, his 
 hair was also gray; and once, when he 
 stooped to drink at a placid pool, he saw 
 that his face was wrinkled even as his fa- 
 ther Timon's had been. Sometimes he saw 
 a young face in the folk around him, yet it 
 was not a fresh young face, nor good to 
 

 look upon, but was pale and sickly and 
 showed lines no young face should show. 
 
 Now all these people were searching, 
 eagerly, anxiously, often despairingly, 
 some in dark, dank places, others in bright 
 airy spots, peering earthward with their 
 dim eyes as though they would find some- 
 thing which they held dear. Philmon 
 marvelled at this and when one old man 
 came close to him, he addressed him, say- 
 ing: 
 
 "My brother, what seekest thou?" 
 
 The man stared at him curiously for an 
 instant and then went on searching. 
 
 "I seek what all men seek," quoth he; 
 "the Ring of Happiness." 
 
 Philmon started. What had he been do- 
 ing, whither was he bound? Was he not 
 seeking this Ring, and yet had he not for- 
 gotten it? Perhaps in his trance he had 
 passed the place where it lay hid; per- 
 chance his neglect had ruined a whole life's 
 endeavor; and yet — 
 
 
The old man had gone on, but even now 
 he was not far distant, and Philmon has- 
 tened to him and cried : 
 
 "My brother, I, too, seek this Ring. I 
 am lonely and sick of heart and would fain 
 search with thee." 
 
 The old man looked at him a moment, 
 and then tears glistened in his eyes and he 
 said simply: 
 
 "Come, for I too am lonely!" 
 
 And they twain sought with all diligence 
 hither and thither in the Land of the Sun- 
 set; and lo, as they journeyed, the glory of 
 the sky grew dim, the leaves fell in eddy- 
 ing showers about them, and the cold winds 
 blew oftener and longer than before. 
 They hasted as well as they could, yet it 
 seemed that they moved always more 
 slowly. 
 
 Gradually the shadows deepened and 
 they found themselves at length in the 
 Land of the Twilight, a gray, bleak, deso- 
 late land wherein was no sound save the 
 
noise of the wind and the tread of uncer- 
 tain feet. Gray was the road at their feet, 
 and gray were the huge boulders, piled in 
 great fantastic heaps, through which it ran ; 
 gray and dead were the trees in this coun- 
 try, and gray was the sky overhead. Chill, 
 cold winds swept across it, bending the 
 stiff branches of the trees and moaning and 
 wailing through nooks and crannies in the 
 rocks. 
 
 All about them were throngs of people, 
 older and grayer, paler than they had been 
 before, all hastening onward, onward, on- 
 ward. Some peered into the grayness, still 
 hoping to find this Ring; others who had 
 despaired, laughed loudly, and said that 
 there was no Ring. Yet all moved on- 
 ward, onward, onward, through the Land 
 of the Twilight. 
 
 And it came to pass as they were travel- 
 ing through this country, Philmon's com- 
 panion stumbled and fell, and when he 
 would rise he could not, for the bone in his 
 

 leg had snapped in twain. Philmon urged 
 him, saying: 
 
 "Come, arise, for the shadows are fast 
 settling, and if thou stayest here Hunger 
 and Starvation will seize upon thee and 
 carry thee by a shorter path to the land 
 whither thou goest!" 
 
 And he answered: 
 
 "Nay, my friend, I cannot, for the 
 strength of my bones hath forsaken me. 
 Do thou go on alone, and haply even yet 
 thou mayst find the Ring ere the shadows 
 of the Land of Night fall upon thee!" 
 
 But Philmon would not. 
 
 "I cannot leave thee here to perish, my 
 brother, while I seek after Happiness!" 
 
 "Go, I pray thee," said the other. "See 
 thou not how the darkness creepeth upon 
 thee ; f eelest not how cold the wind bloweth 
 upon thy cheek? Hasten, for my sake, 
 hasten !" 
 
 Philmon arose and set his face away 
 from his companion and departed a few 
 
 
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paces. Yet his heart smote within him ; he 
 stopped, and then ran back to his friend. 
 
 "I cannot leave thee," he cried, "I can- 
 not. Where thou livest there will I also 
 live, and where thou diest there will I also 
 die. Thou needst not perish here, for lo, 
 I am strong and can bear thee up in my 
 
 arms!" 
 
 The old man suffered him to lift him and 
 carry him, and thus they proceeded. 
 Darker and darker grew the shadows, 
 colder and colder blew the wind. Tiny 
 flakes of snow came driving down and 
 smote on their faces like sword points. 
 Philmon grew weaker and weaker, the 
 storm came faster and faster. He stag- 
 gered, he stumbled, his breath came in 
 short gasps, the burden in his arms grew 
 heavier and heavier, till he thought he 
 scarce could bear it longer. A strong gust 
 of wind brought him to his knees, he strug- 
 gled to rise, and sank back, swayed a mo- 
 ment, half turned, and fell to the ground. 
 
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 He heard the wind scream, saw dimly, in- 
 distinctly, a maze of swiftly flying snow- 
 flakes; — then came silence and blackness. 
 
 The air was warm, laden with the per- 
 fume of sweet, hidden wild flowers; the 
 leaves of trees rustled faintly, whispering 
 great, great secrets to a stealthy night wind. 
 Down, deep down in the ravine, the shad- 
 ows were piled in great indefinable masses; 
 strange and silent they lurked behind tree 
 trunks and in tangles of brush, fearing the 
 white pursuing moonbeams which glanced 
 from tree tops and wove themselves into a 
 faint, silvery mist hovering lightly over all. 
 Silently, majestically, the great round 
 moon queen sailed above the opposite 
 ridge, surrounded by all her sparkling, 
 twinkling courtiers. 
 
 Philmon awoke, and lay calmly looking 
 at the scene before him. He took deep, 
 full breaths of the air because he found 
 pleasure in it; he arose, and his body was 
 

 no longer a burden, but a light thing that 
 found every movement pleasant. And as 
 he stood there, faint, sweet music came to 
 his ears, music that wakened longings and 
 faint desires. Some one stood by his side; 
 he turned and looked into the eyes of his 
 friend. Even as he looked, the old man 
 changed; his raiment, white as snow, 
 gleamed; and his eyes, tender, sweet, grew 
 bluer, deeper, until the goodness, the sweet- 
 ness, the tenderness of a universe seemed 
 swallowed in their depths. 
 
 "Philmon," he said, — and Philmon's 
 heart trembled for joy at the sound of his 
 voice, — "thou hast sought earnestly, thou 
 hast sought well; wherefore the fairies 
 have given it unto thee to find the 
 Ring." 
 
 Philmon looked down, and behold, at 
 his feet there lay a Ring, wondrously beau- 
 tiful and fair to look upon. He stooped, 
 picked it up, and slipped it on his finger; 
 and when he would have spoken to his 
 

 friend, he had departed and in his place 
 stood Rama. 
 
 "Rama! Rama!" he whispered. 
 
 "Hush!" she said softly, "listen to the 
 words of the Ring Song!" 
 
 There was the same strange, sweet mel- 
 ody ; but now in the midst of it there was a 
 voice, small, yet divinely sweet: 
 
 "Red of the rose-heart, breath of the lily, 
 
 Fragrance of flowers that bloom by the way- 
 side, 
 
 Whispers of leaves in the peace of the night 
 time, 
 
 All are love, love, love. 
 
 h 
 
 
 "The babble of brooks, the rushing of rivers, 
 The roar and the hiss of the waves on the 
 
 headlands, 
 The whistling, the wailing, the shriek of the 
 
 storm wind, 
 All are love, love, love. 
 
 
 ^2 
 
"The silver of moonbeams, the silver of star- 
 beams, 
 
 The gold of the sunrise, the gold of the sun- 
 set, 
 
 The throb of the bird's song in the cool of the 
 morning, 
 
 All are love, love, love." 
 
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