THE STORY CHAPTER I. THE FIRST PHILOSOPHERS. WILL you do me a favour, reader, and abstract your mind for a moment? Put a barrier between the scene around and your eyes. Shut your ears to the myriads of restless sounds that are fighting for their attention. All is still. It seems as if a dark mist settled down like a heavy curtain. Look at it steadily. At first there is nothing to be seen. Look again. You can just discern faint outlines or forms, darker than the darkness on which they seem traced. Is the darkness less, or are these shadows blacker? As you gaze fixedly they grow more and more distinct, till you find you are looking at a long line of human figures. Some stand apart alone; others are grouped in twos or threes. At the far end the silent statuesque forms are draped in the ancient flowing garments of centuries ago. Beyond, where the long line that stretches out before you must end, you recognise modern costume. Now you can discern their features. All have the same deep, earnest expression. Shadowy though they are, their eyes seem to pierce the mist with a searching, scrutinising gaze. Α |