CONCLUSION. 
349 
spring into summer ? If the condition of things which 
we were made for is not yet, what were any reality 
which we can substitute ? We will not be shipwrecked 
on a vain reality. Shall we with pains erect a heaven 
of blue glass over ourselves, though when it is done 
we shall be sure to gaze still at the true ethereal heaven 
far above, as if the former were not ? 
There was an artist in the city of Kouroo who was 
disposed to strive after perfection. One day it came 
into his mind to make a staff. Having considered that 
in an imperfect work time is an ingredient, but into a 
perfect work time does not enter, he said to himself, It 
shall be perfect in all respects, though I should do noth¬ 
ing else in my life. He proceeded instantly to the 
forest for wood, being resolved that it should not be 
made of unsuitable material; and as he searched for 
and rejected stick after stick, his friends gradually de¬ 
serted him, for they grew old in their works and died, 
but he grew not older by a moment. His singleness of 
purpose and resolution, and his elevated piety, endowed 
him, without his knowledge, with perennial youth. As 
he made no compromise with Time, Time kept out of 
his way, and only sighed at a distance because he could 
not overcome him. Before he had found a stock in all 
respects suitable the city of Kouroo was a hoary ruin, 
and he sat on one of its mounds to peel the stick. Be¬ 
fore he had given it the proper shape the dynasty of 
the Candahars was at an end, and with the point of the 
stick he wrote the name of the last of that race in the 
sand, and then resumed his work. By the time he had 
smoothed and polished the staff Kalpa was no longer 
the pole-star; and ere he had put on the ferule and the 
head adorned with precious stones, Brahma had awoke 
