Atalapha, a Winged Brownie 
after hasty feeding left the door unlocked. That 
night Atalapha, ever searching for escape, trying 
every wire and airhole, pushed back the door, then 
skimmed into the room, and through an open win- 
dow launched out into the glorious night again 
upon his glorious wings, free! free! free! And 
he swooped and sailed in the sweet fresh air 
of the starry night, and sailed and soared and 
sang. 
And who shall tell the history of his bright young 
jailers at the mill? Little is known but this: the 
pestilence born of the flies alighted on that home, 
and when the grim one left it there were two new 
mounds, short mounds, in the sleeping ground that 
is overlooked by the wooden tower. Who can tell 
us what snowflake set the avalanche arolling, or 
what was the one, the very spark which, quenched, 
had saved the royal city from the flames. This 
only we know: that the Bats were destroying 
the bearers of the plague about that house; many 
Bats had fallen by the gun, and the plague struck 
in that house where the blow was hardest to be 
borne. Wedonot know. It is a chain with many 
links; we have not light to see; and the only guide 
that is always safe to follow in the gloom is the 
golden thread of kindness, the gospel of Assisi’s 
Saint. 
186 
