CHAPTER XIII 

 The City's Lambent Flame 



The old fever is in my blood. I have not 

 lived it down. Why should I strangle the 

 impulse, if God put it within? After all, it 

 is His breath. This longing for fellowship, 

 this consciousness of kinship with the herd 

 is upon me and my heart is beating to its 

 wild music. I lift my head and sniff from 

 afar the dust of their hoof beat, and my soul 

 answers with a cry. 



On the horizon of the night I see the city's 

 lambent flame, the light that never grows 

 dim, the life that never sleeps. 



Again I plunge into its human tides and 

 feel the enfolding contagion of their animal 

 and spiritual magnetism. Again I bathe 

 in my favourite pool — the whirlpool at Madi- 



