The Helmet of Mambrino 



It was after we had passed the 

 westward edge of that thin veneer 

 of polite vegetation which a coquet- 

 tish art has affixed to the great wind- 

 made waves of sand, and entered 

 the waste of naked drift beyond, 

 that we heard afar a whispered sea- 

 plaint, and beheld the great Pacific 

 coming in under cover of a low-lying 

 fog, and grinding its white teeth on 

 the beach. 



Still discoursing of La Mancha, we 

 left behind us the last gateway of the 

 hills, came to the walk's end and the 

 world's end and the end of the Aryan 

 migrations. 



We were not disturbed by the 

 restless Aryan who dashed past us 

 at the rate of 2:20 with an insolent 

 flinging of sand, a whirling cobweb 

 of hickory wheel, and all the mad 

 hurry of the nineteenth century at 

 his heels. 



For what (we asked one another 



6 



