The Equinox (Volume I, Number I)

THE EQUINOX land, doubting the decaying religion of his childhood, he snapped, like rotten twigs, the worm-eaten conventionalities of the effete and hypocritical civilisation in which he had been nurtured, and sought refuge for a space in the wild and beau- tiful country which lies tangled like a head of tumbled hair to the north and north-west of England. Here he learnt from the whispering winds and the dreamy stars that life was not altogether a curse, and that every night dies in the arms of dawn. His freedom, however, was of but short duration; yet, though he was dragged back to the prison from which he had escaped, he had learnt his own strength, a new life had flowed like a great sea dancing with foam upon him, and had intoxi- cated him with the red wine of Freedom and Revolt—his gauntlet of youth had been cast down, henceforth he would battle for his manhood, ay! and for the manhood of the World! Then the trumpet-blast resounded; the battle had indeed begun! Struggling to his feet, he tore from him the shroud of a corrupted faith as if it had been the rotten cerement of a mummy. With quivering lip, and voice choked with indig- nation at the injustice of the world, he cursed the name of Christ and strode on to seek the gate of Hell and let loose the fiends of the pit, so that mankind might yet learn that com- passion was not dead. Nevertheless, the madness passes, like a dark cloud before the breath of awakening dawn; conscious of his own right- ness, of the manhood which was his, of his own strength, and the righteousness of his purpose, and filled with the over- flowing ambitions of youth, we find him unconsciously sheathe 232