Why Jesus Wept

D E D IC AT IO E XT RAO RD IN AR IA I promised itI ; and I hope you will like it. Can I do more than make your Brixton my deus ex machina ? You see, when I wrote “ The Soul of Osiris,” Europe was my utmost in travel. To-day, what country of the globe has not shud- dered with the joy of my presence ? The virgin snows of Chogo Ri, the gloomy jungles of Burma, filled with savage buffaloes and murderous Chins ; the peace of Waikiki, the breeding hopeful putrefaction of America, the lonely volcanoes of Mexico, the everlasting furnace sands of Egypt — all these have known me. Travel thou thus far, thou also ! Somewhat shall thou learn ! But otherwise ; gird on thine armour for thy Christ, o champion of the dying faith in a man dead ! Arm ! arm, and out ; for the young warrior of a new religion is upon thee ; and his number is the number of a man. אלהיסטהרהקרעולהי I. “ I promise Mr. Chesterton / A grand ap-pre-ci-a-ti-on / Of Brixton on Ascen- sion Day ”. The Sword of Song.