.. My mother certainly gave
me swift legs but they're short, and the white end of the little beast
kept far ahead. A bush covered with red berries detained us a very long
time. She sees no objection to eating strange things and I can
truthfully say that I always taste everything She offers me, for I've
great faith in her. But this morning--"Eat, Toby, nice berries. Eat!
here are some rose-hips. Oh stupid! how can you not dote upon their
delicious flavor? I assure you these are comfits of Mother Nature's
making." In deference to her, I chewed a reddish ball; there were some
rough hairs on it--put there doubtless by her teasing hand--and what was
bound to happen, did happen ... Khaha! My throat rejected the nasty
"rosehip." ...
But listen, Fire, what I saw after that, passes _my_ understanding. It
was in a wood where stiff leaves rustled. Had She carried you under her
cloak, or do gods like you come at her bidding? I saw her hands pile up
the wood, arrange flat stones in some mysterious fashion, and then,
Fire, I saw the sparks flash and your joyous soul palpitate, grow big,
soar naked and rose-colored, veil itself in smoke, snap noisily (for
yours is a belligerent soul), agonize--and disappear.
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