t our glasses,  ourselves groer and more serene.

    From far away came Pablos warm voice.

    quot;It is a pleasure to me, my dear o  in a small en been sorely riving, , for escape? You o forsake ts reality and to penetrate to a reality more native to you, to a ime. You kno you seek. Only s t oty for s being o you no picture gallery but your ounity, to make your o is all.quot;

    Again  o t of  and dre a round looking glass.

    quot;Look, it is t you ;

    tle glass before my eyes (a co my mind: quot;Little glass, little glass in t;) and I sainctly and cloudily, tion of an uneasy self-tormented, ineppenened eyes t smoldered no, as a tributary pours its cloudy turmoil into a river. In bitter strife, eacried to devour t  prevail. terably sad e figure of tiful shy eyes.

    quot;t; Pablo remarked and put t. I o close my eyes and take a sip of the elixir.

    quot;And no; said Pablo, quot;tle talk. If your fatigue  you to my peep stle ter. ill you come?quot;

    e got up. itain aside, and er, and exactly in t a large number, indeed an incredible number, of narroo the boxes.

    quot;t; explained Pablo, quot;is our ter, and a jolly one it is. I s to laug.quot;  laug it  t. It  and peculiar laug I had heard before from below.

    quot;ttle ter of mine o as many boxes as you please, ten or a ly s you. It is a pretty cabinet of pictures, my dear friend; but it e useless for you to go t as you are. You urn by o call your personality. You  guessed long