
THE UNCROWNED KING, by HAROLD BELL WRIGHT.

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Posted to Wiretap in July 1993, as uncrown.txt.

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                 The Uncrowned King

                          By

                 HAROLD BELL WRIGHT

                      Author of

            "The Shepherd of the Hills"

                      etc., etc.

              The Book Supply Company

                Publishers, Chicago

                   Copyright, 1910

                By Harold Bell Wright

                        ----

                   Copyright, 1910

                By Elsbery W. Reynolds

                        ----

                 All Rights Reserved

                        ----

              Published, October, 1910

                         To

              MR. ELSBERY W. REYNOLDS

                         MY

                Publisher and friend,

         Whose belief in my work has made my

             work possible, I gratefully

                  dedicate this tale

                         of

                 The Uncrowned King

                Redlands, California,

                  May fourth, 1910

     "Eyes blinded by the fog of Things cannot see Truth.  Ears
deafened by the din of Things cannot hear Truth.  Brains
bewildered by the whirl of Things cannot think Truth.  Hearts
deadened by the weight of Things cannot feel Truth.  Throats
choked by the dust of Things cannot speak Truth."

CONTENTS

    I   The Pilgrim and His Pilgrimage

   II   And the First Voice was the Voice of the Waves

  III   And the Second Voice was the Voice of the Evening Wind

   IV   And the Third Voice was the Voice of the Night

    V   And the Fourth Voice was the Voice of the New Day

CHAPTER I.
The Pilgrim and His Pilgrimage

For many, many, weary months the Pilgrim journeyed in the wide
and pathless Desert of Facts. So many indeed were the months
that the wayworn Pilgrim, himself, came at last to forget their
number.

     And always, for the Pilgrim, the sky by day was a sky of
brass, softened not by so much as a wreath of cloud mist.
Always, for him, the hot air was stirred not by so much as the
lift of a wild bird's wing. Never, for him, was the awful
stillness of the night broken by voice of his kind, by foot-fall
of beast, or by rustle of creeping thing. For the toiling
Pilgrim in the vast and pathless Desert of Facts there was no
kindly face, no friendly fire. Only the stars were many--many
and very near.

     Day after day, as the Pilgrim labored onward, through the
torturing heat, under the sky of brass, he saw on either hand
lakes of living waters and groves of many palms. And the waters
called him to their healing coolness: the palms beckoned him to
their restful shade and shelter. Night after night, in the
dreadful solitude, frightful Shapes came on silent feet out of
the silent darkness to stare at him with doubtful, questioning,
threatening eyes; drawing back at last, if he stood still, as
silently as they had come, or, if he advanced, vanishing
quickly, only to reappear as silently in another place.

     But the Pilgrim knew that the enchanting scenes that lured
him by day were but pictures in the heated air. He knew that the
fearful Shapes that haunted him by night were but creatures of
his own overwrought fancy. And so he journeyed on and ever on,
in the staggering heat, under the sky of brass, in the awful
stillness of the night: on and ever on, through the wide and
pathless waste, until he came at last to the
Outer-Edge-Of-Things--came to the place that is between the
Desert of Facts and the Beautiful Sea, even as it is written in
the Law of the Pilgrimage.

     The tired feet of the Traveler left now the rough, hot
floor of the desert for a soft, cool carpet of velvet grass all
inwrought with blossoms that filled the air with fragrance. Over
his head, tall trees gently shook their glistening, shadowy
leaves, while sweet voiced birds of rare and wondrous plumage
flitted from bough to bough. Across a sky of deepest blue,
fleets of fairy cloud ships, light as feathery down,
floated--floated--drifting lazily, as though, piloted only by
the wind, their pilot slept. All about him, as he walked,
multitudes of sunlight and shadow fairies danced gaily hand in
hand. And over the shimmering surface of the Sea a thousand
thousand fairy waves ran joyously, one after the other, from the
sky line to the pebbly beach, making liquid music clearer and
softer than the softest of clear toned bells.

     And there it was, in that wondrously beautiful place, the
Outer-Edge-Of-Things, that the Pilgrim found, fashioned of
sheerest white, with lofty dome, towering spires, and piercing
minarets lifting out of the living green, the Temple of Truth.

     In reverent awe the Pilgrim stood before the sacred object
of his Pilgrimage.

     At last, with earnest step, the worshiper approached the
holy edifice. But when he would have passed through the high
arched door, his way was barred by one whose garments were white
even as the whiteness of the Temple, whose eyes were clear even
as the skies, and whose face shone even as the shining Beautiful
Sea.

     The Pilgrim, hesitating, spoke: "You are?"

     The other answered in a voice that was even as the soft
wind that stirred the leaves of the forest: "I am Thyself."

     Then the Pilgrim--"And your office?"

     "I am the appointed Keeper of the Temple of Truth; save by
my permission none may enter here."

     Cried the Pilgrim eagerly: "But I? I may enter? Surely I
have fulfilled The Law! Surely I have paid The Price!"

     "What law have you fulfilled? What price have you paid?"
gently asked he in the garments of white.

     Proudly now the other answered: "I have accomplished alone
the long journey through the Desert of Facts. Alone I have
endured the days under the sky of brass; alone I have borne the
awful solitude of the nights. I was not drawn aside by the
lovely scenes that tempted me. I was not turned back by the
dreadful Shapes that threatened me. And so I have attained the
Outer-Edge-Of-Things."

     "You have indeed fulfilled The, Law" said he of the shining
face. "And The Price?"

     The Pilgrim answered sadly: "I left behind all things
dearest to the heart of man--Wealth of Traditions inherited from
the Long Ago, Holy Prejudices painfully gathered through the
ages of the past, Sacred Opinions, Customs, Favors and Honors of
the World that is, in the times that are."

     "You have indeed paid The Price," said the soft voice of
the other," but still, still there is one thing more."

     "And the one thing more?" asked the Pilgrim," I knew not
that there could be one thing more."

     The Keeper of the Temple was silent for a little, then said
very gently: "Is there nothing, O Hadji, that you would ask
Thyself?"

     Then all at once the Pilgrim understood. Said he slowly:
"There is still one thing more. Tell me, tell me--Why? Why The
Law of the Pilgrimage? Why the journey so long? Why the way so
hard? Why is the Temple of Truth here on the
Outer-Edge-Of-Things?"

     And Thyself answered clearly: "He who lives always within
Things can never worship in Truth. Eyes blinded by the fog of
Things cannot see Truth. Ears deafened by the din of Things
cannot hear Truth. Brains bewildered by the whirl of Things
cannot think Truth. Hearts deadened by the weight of Things
cannot feel Truth. Throats choked by the dust of Things cannot
speak Truth. Therefore, O Hadji, is the Temple of Truth here on
the Outer-Edge-Of-Things; therefore is The Law of the
Pilgrimage."

     "And The Price?" asked the Pilgrim; "It was so great a
price. Why?"

     Thyself answered: "Found you no bones in the Desert? Found
you no graves by the way?"

     The other replied: "I saw the Desert white with bones--I
found the way set among many graves."

     "And the hands of the dead?"--asked Thyself, in that voice
so like the wind that stirred the leaves of the forest-- "And
the hands of the dead?" And the Pilgrim answered now with
understanding: "The hands of the dead held fast to their
treasures--held fast to their Wealth of Traditions, to their
Holy Prejudices, to the Sacred Opinions, Customs, Favors and
Honors of Men."

     Then Thyself, the appointed Keeper of the Temple of Truth,
went quietly aside from the path. With slow and reverent step,
with bowed uncovered head, the Pilgrim crossed the threshold and
through the high arched doorway entered the sacred corridors.

     But within the Temple, before approaching the altar with
his offering, the Pilgrim was constrained to retire to The Quiet
Room, there to spend the hours until a new day in prayerful
meditation. It was there that this Tale of The Uncrowned King
came to him--came to him at the end of his long pilgrimage
across the Desert of Facts--came to him after he had paid The
Price, after he had fulfilled The Law, after he had asked of
Thyself, the Keeper of the Temple," Why?"

     There, in The Quiet Room in the Temple of Truth on the
Outer-Edge-Of-Things, the Voices to the Pilgrim told this Tale
of The Uncrowned King.

CHAPTER II.
And the First Voice was the Voice of the Waves

IT was nearing the fall of day when first the Pilgrim laid
himself to meditate upon his couch in the Quiet Room.

     Without the Temple, the tall trees rustled softly their
glossy leaves and over the flower-figured carpet of green the
sunlight and shadow fairies danced along the lanes of gold. High
in the blue above, the fairy cloud-fleets were
drifting--drifting--idly floating. Over the Beautiful Sea, the
glad wave fairies ran one after the other from beyond the far
horizon to the sandy shore.

     In The Quiet Room where the Pilgrim lay, it was very, very,
still. Only the liquid music of the waves came through the open
window--came to the Pilgrim clearer and sweeter than the
sweetest notes from clear toned bells.

     And after a little there was in the music of the waves a
Voice.

     Said the Voice: "To thee, O Hadji, I come from the
Beautiful Sea; the interminable, unfathomable sea, that begins
at the Outer-Edge-Of-Things and stretches away into Neverness.
I speak from out the Deeps Beneath. I tell of the Great That Is.
I am a Voice of Life, O Hadji, and mine it is to begin for you
The Tale of The Uncrowned King."

     And this is the beginning of the Tale that the Voice of the
Waves began.

     Very great and very wonderful, O Hadji, is the Land of
Allthetime. Very great and very wonderful is the Royal City
Daybyday. Beautiful in Allthetime are the lakes and rivers, the
mountains, plains and streams. Beautiful in Daybyday are the
groves and gardens, the drives and parks, the harbors and
canals. Countless, in this Royal City, are the palaces. Without
number are the people--without number and of many races,
languages, and names.

     But amid the countless palaces in this marvelous city
Daybyday, there is one Temple only--only one. For the numberless
people of the many races, languages, and names, there is but one
God--only one. About this Royal City there is no Wall. For the
King of Allthetime, who dwells in Daybyday, there is no Crown.

     But the days that were were not as the days that are, O
Hadji, and therefore is this Tale.

     In the long ago olden days, when King What-Soever-Youthink
ruled over the Land of Allthetime, there were, in this Royal
City Daybyday, religions many--as many quite as the races,
languages and names of the people. Many then were the temples
built by the many followers of the many religions to their many
gods. For you must know that King What-Soever-Youthink was, of
all wise kings that ever were or will be, the very wisest and,
therefore, permitted his subjects to worship whom they would.

     Always in the city streets there were vast throngs of
people passing to and fro among the temples, bearing offerings
and singing praises to the gods of their choice; for the
chiefest occupation of the dwellers in Daybyday was then, as it
is now, the old, old, occupation of worship. Some of the
temples, it is true, were at times quite deserted, while in
others there was not room for the multitudes; but even in the
nearly empty temples the priests and beggars always remained,
for, in that age, the people of Daybyday changed often their
gods nor followed any very far.

     And you must know, too, O Hadji, that in those long ago
olden days--the days of the reign of What-Soever-Youthink there
was for the Ruler of Allthetime a Crown; and that of all the
wonders in that wonderful land this Crown was the most
wonderful. More dear to the people of Daybyday than their city
itself, more precious than their splendid temples, more sacred
even than their many gods, was this--the Crown of their King.

     It was so, first, because the Crown was extremely old. From
the beginning of the reign of the the Royal Family Everyone, no
one knows how many thousands of ages ago, it had passed from
king to king, even until that day.

     It was so, second, because the Crown was exceedingly
valuable. From the very beginning of the beginning each ruler
had in turn added a jewel to the golden, gem encrusted emblem of
his rank.

     It was so, third, because the Crown was a Magic Crown,
though no one then knew its magic--they knew only that its magic
was.

     Therefore, again, O Hadji, is this Tale.

     Also, in those days, there was about this Royal City a
Wall--a wall built, so they said, on the very foundations of the
world; so strong that no force could breach it, and so high that
the clouds often hid its towers and battlements. Only from the
topmost cupola of the Royal Palace could one see over this
mighty barrier. Only by the Two Great Gates could one pass
through.

     And so the good people of Allthetime could all quite
clearly see that in the Royal City Daybyday the precious Magic
Crown was as safe as ever crown could be. And it was so, O
Hadji--it was so The Crown was as safe as ever crown could
be--as safe indeed as ever a crown can be.

     And this too is truth, O Hadji; that in Daybyday, even now,
you may find ruins of the many temples, and here and there a
little of the many gods. Even now you may see where the Great
Wall was. But of the Crown, in these days, there is
nothing--nothing.

     And this is how it happened--this is the way it came to be.

     King What-Soever-Youthink was the father of two sons; twins
they were, and their names--Really-Is and Seemsto-Be. No one in
all the kingdom could tell them one from the other, though the
princes themselves knew that Really-Is was first born, and that
when the wise king, their father, died, it would be for him to
occupy the throne, to wear the Crown, and rule the Land of
Allthetime.

     One day when the young princes were playing in the palace
yard they discovered, by chance, an old door that led to the
stairway in a tower. Of course they climbed up, up, up, until
they stood at last in the cupola at the very top. Far beneath
their feet they saw the roofs of the Royal Palace, and the
gardens, fields, and orchards, like spots and splashes of color.
The walks and courts appeared as lines and squares of white,
while the soldiers and servants moved about like tiny animated
dots. Reaching away from the palace grounds on every side was
the wonderful city Daybyday, so far below that no sound could
reach their ears. To their delight, the princes found that they
could even look down upon the Great Wall; and, because there
were that day no clouds to shut out the view, they could see
far, far away over the Land of Allthetime."

     Look, brother," cried Seemsto-Be, catching Really-Is by the
arm in quick excitement, "Look! what is that flashing and
gleaming in the sun?"

     As he spoke, he pointed afar off to the land beyond the
river that marks the end of Allthetime.

     "I'm sure I cannot tell;" answered Really-Is, shading his
eyes with his open hand and gazing long and earnestly in the
direction his brother indicated; "It looks--it looks like a
city."

     "It is, it is," cried Seemsto-Be. "It is the City Sometime
in the Land of Yettocome. I remember hearing once the Chief
Gardener telling the Chief Coachman about it, and he said that
the Chief Cook said that he heard the Captain of the Guard say
that it is far more wonderful than our own city Daybyday; and it
must be so, Really-Is, for see, brother, how the walls shine
like polished silver, and look! Is not that a palace or a temple
blazing so like a ruby flame?"

     Often after that did the twin princes, Really-Is and
Seemsto-Be, climb the winding stairs in the palace tower and
look away over the Great Wall of Daybyday to the City Sometime
in the Land of Yettocome. Many were the hours they spent talking
of the marvelous place that so filled the distance with dazzling
splendor. And at last, when the princes were quite grown, they
went before their royal father and asked permission to visit the
city they had seen.

     Now King What-Soever-Youthink was very sad when his sons
made their request, but nevertheless, because he was a wise
king, he gave his royal consent, and, that the brothers might
make their journey in comfort, presented to each a priceless
horse from the palace stables. To Really-Is he, Reality; to
Seemsto-Be he gave gave Appearance; and both were steeds of
noble breeding, swift and strong, beautiful and proud--as like
even as the royal twins, their masters.

     So it came that the two princes bade farewell to their
father, the King, and rode bravely out of the city Daybyday,
through the Land of Allthetime, and along the way that leads to
the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome.

     "And this, O Hadji," said the Voice of the Waves, "is all
of The Tale of The Uncrowned King that is given me to tell."

     The liquid music of the waves came no longer through the
open window--the voice that was in the music came no more to the
Pilgrim in The Quiet Room. Without the Temple the tall trees
were still--still and silent were the sweet-voiced birds. The
sunlight and shadow fairies had danced to the ends of the lanes
of gold--danced to the very ends and were gone. The feathery
cloud ships in the blue above seemed to lie at anchor, and over
the surface of the Beautiful Sea no laughing ripples ran to play
on the pebbly beach.

     The Pilgrim arose from his couch, and, going to the open
window, looked, and there, in the still, fathomless, depth of
the clear water, he saw as in a crystal glass the wonderful city
Daybyday with its canals and harbors, its parks and drives, its
groves and gardens, its palaces and temples.

     Then, even as the Pilgrim looked, quickly the Evening Wind
sprang up. Again the tall trees rustled their leaves, the cloud
ships lifted their anchors, the waves of the Beautiful Sea ran
joyously; the Vision in the Deeps Beneath was gone.

CHAPTER III.
And the Second Voice was the Voice of the Evening Wind

IT was early twilight when the Pilgrim in the Quiet Room
returned to his couch and to his meditations.

     Without the Temple, the last of the day was stealing over
the rim of the world into the mysterious realm of the
yesterdays. The feathery cloud ships no longer floated white in
the depth of blue, but with wide flung sails of rose and crimson
swept over an ocean of amethyst and gold. The ripples that ran
on the Beautiful Sea were edged with yellow and scarlet flame,
while leaf, and blade, and flower, and bird, and all of their
kind and kin, were singing their evensong. Sweetly, softly, the
choral anthem stole through the open window into The Quiet Room.

     And after a little the Pilgrim heard, whispering low, in
the twilight hymn, the Voice of the Evening Wind.

     Said the Voice: "To thee, O Hadji, I come from the
Boundless Ocean Above that begins wherever you are and extends
farther away than the farthest point your thought can reach. I
speak from out the Deeps Beyond. I tell of the Great That May
Be. I too am a Voice of Life and mine it is to continue for you
The Tale of The Uncrowned King."

     And this is the part of the Tale that was told by the Voice
of the Evening Wind.

     The twin princes Really-Is and Seemsto-Be, on their good
horses Reality and Appearance, journeyed very pleasantly through
the Land of Allthetime toward the City Sometime in the Land of
Yettocome. Ever as they went the Royal travelers saw before them
the walls of the city gleaming like polished silver in the sun,
and high above the shining walls the great palace or temple that
flamed like a ruby flame. Always as they rode the two talked
gaily, in glad anticipation of the marvels they would certainly
see, of the pleasures they would surely find, and of the
delightful adventures that without doubt awaited them. So at
last they arrived at the city gate, which was a gate all
scrolled and patterned with precious gems.

     Fairer than the dreams of angels, O Hadji, is the City
Sometime in the Land of Yettocome. Of such radiant splendors,
such dazzling brilliancy, such transcending glory there are yet
no words fashioned to tell. It is a city, in the form and manner
of its building, of exquisite loveliness, of fairy grace, of
towering grandeur. It is a city in the beauty and richness of
its color, all emerald, rose, and purple, all ruby, crimson and
gold.

     As the twin princes of Allthetime rode slowly through the
wide jeweled gate and along the noble streets and stately
avenues, they exclaimed aloud with delight and wonder at the
enchanting beauty of the scene. More than they had heard at home
was true. The poorest of the buildings in Sometime far exceeded
in splendor the richest of the palaces in Daybyday; while before
the palaces of Sometime, Really-Is and Seemsto-Be stood
speechless and amazed. They were fairly drunken with the
flashing, flaming, blazing, blinding glory of the sight.

     The people of Sometime, too, were exceeding fair and very
charming in their manner, and they welcomed the princes from
Daybyday with a joyous welcome, answering their questions gladly
and escorting them to the palace of their king. For you must
know, O Hadji, that the City Sometime, too, is a Royal City, the
home of Lookingahead, who rules over the Land of Yettocome. And
King Lookingahead received his noble visitors with gladness and
had great pleasure, he said, in presenting them to his two
daughters, the princesses of Yettocome, Fancy and Imagination,
who were fairer than any women the princes of Daybyday had ever
seen, even in the loveliest of their dreams.

     For a long happy, happy time Really-Is and Seemsto-Be
remained in the City Sometime. Every day, and every day, with
the royal princesses Fancy and Imagination for their guides,
they rode or drove through the wide streets and broad avenues,
walked in the beautiful gardens, explored the shadowy groves or
visited the many palaces. And in this way it was that the
charming princesses showed to their noble guests all the wonders
of the Royal City of the Realm of Yettocome, pointing out for
them every day new beauties, finding for them always new
pleasures, leading them ever to fresh scenes of enchanting
loveliness. And in turn the princes told their fair guides many
things of their own city, Daybyday, in the Land of Allthetime;
of the people with their many temples and their many gods; of
their father What-Soever-Youthink and his wise reign. But most
of all did they tell of the wonderful Crown, so very old, so
very valuable, and how it was a Magic Crown, though no one then
knew its magic, but knew only that its magic was.

     Thus Really-Is and Seemsto-Be learned that the dwellers in
Sometime were unlike the people of Daybyday in many ways, but in
no way more than this, that they worshiped one god only, only
one. The temple sacred to this god stood in the very heart of
the city, which is the very heart of the land, and it was this
temple, blazing like a ruby flame high above the shining city
walls, the princes had seen from the tower of their palace home.

     Often, very often did the four young people visit this
shrine in Sometime with rich offerings to the god, Itmightbe.

     But there came a time at last when, returning from a long
ramble through the city, Really-Is and Seemsto-Be were met at
the palace door by a royal messenger from home with the word
that King What-Soever-Youthink was dead, and that the princes
must hasten back to Daybyday, where Really-Is would be crowned
with the Magic Crown and become the Ruler of Allthetime.

     All was hurry and confusion in the palace of Lookingahead
as the guests made swift preparations for their journey. Quickly
the word went throughout the city and many charming people came
to express regret, to sympathize and to bid the young men
good-speed and safe going on their homeward way. The princesses,
Fancy and Imagination, were very sad at losing their pleasant
companions; and the Chief High Priest of the Temple commanded
services and offerings extraordinary to the god Itmightbe.

     "And this, O Hadji," whispered the Voice of the Evening
Wind, "is all of The Tale of The Uncrowned King that is given me
to tell."

     The evening song of leaf and blade, and flower and bird,
and all their kind and kin, ceased to come through the open
window into The Quiet Room. The low Voice of the Evening Wind no
longer whispered to the Pilgrim as he lay upon his couch.
Without the Temple the eventide was passing from over the silent
land and over the silent sea.

     For a little the Pilgrim waited; then rising from his
couch, again he went to the open window, and lo! in the evening
sky he saw the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome. All the
wondrous castles and palaces were there, marvelous in their
beauty, glorious in their splendor, dazzling in their colors of
emerald, rose and purple, of ruby, crimson and gold. From spire
and dome, cupola and turret, tower and battlement the lights
flashed and gleamed, while the Pilgrim looked in wonder and in
awe. And high above the city walls, that shone as burnished
silver in the sun, rose the temple flaming like a ruby
flame--the temple sacred to the god Itmightbe.

     Slowly, slowly, the last of the twilight passed. Slowly,
the graceful lines, the proud forms, the majestic piles of the
city melted--melted, blurred and were lost even as are lost the
form and loveliness of a snow flake on the sleeve. Slowly,
slowly, the glorious colors faded as fade the flowers at the
touch of frost. The lights went out. The darkness came. The city
that is fairer than an angel's dream was gone.

CHAPTER IV.
And the Third Voice was the Voice of the Night

IT was full night when the Pilgrim turned again to seek his
couch.

     Without the Temple it was very still--dark and still. Very
still was it within The Quiet Room, and the darkness that came
stealing through the open window was a thick and heavy darkness.
The Pilgrim lay upon his couch staring with blank, unseeing eyes
into a blackness wherein there was not even a spot of gray to
show where the window was.

     And after a little there came out of the heavy darkness the
sad, sad Voice of the Night.

     Said the Voice: "To thee, O Hadji, I come from the
Limitless Realm of the Past that begins this moment and reaches
back even beyond the day of all beginnings. I speak from the
Deeps Above. I tell of the Great That Was. I also am a Voice of
Life, and mine it is to tell you yet more of The Tale of The
Uncrowned King."

     And this is the part of the Tale that was told by the Voice
of the Night.

     Now it happened, as things sometime so happen, that
Really-Is lingered over long, saying goodbye to his friends in
the City Sometime in the Land of Yettocome; and that when he had
lingered long with his friends he stayed yet longer with the
beautiful princess, Imagination.

     So it was that, while the prince was promising many
promises and receiving in turn promises as many, his brother,
Seemsto-Be, mounted and was well started on his journey before
the heir to the throne of Allthetime was in the saddle. With the
last good-bye spoken to his royal friends, the last promise
promised to the fair princess, and the last farewell waved to
the charming people, Really-Is urged his horse fast and faster,
thinking thus to overtake his brother. But very soon Really-Is
found that, fast as he rode his good horse Reality, Seemsto-Be
on Appearance rode faster. Greater and greater grew the distance
between the two princes--farther and farther ahead rode
Seemsto-Be; until at last, when the distance between them was
such that he could no longer see his brother, Really-Is, the
rightful heir to the throne of Allthetime, understood that
Seemsto-Be was riding to win the Crown.

     "For you must not forget, O Hadji," said the sad Voice of
the Night," that no one in Daybyday could tell the twins,
Really-Is and Seemsto-Be, one from the other, and therefore, you
see, the prince who first reached the Royal City would surely be
proclaimed king."

     Hard and fast, fast and hard, rode the two who raced for
the Crown of Allthetime. But always Appearance the horse of
Seemsto-Be, proved faster than Reality, the horse of Really-Is,
and so the prince who was first born rode far behind.

     Now just this side of the river that marks the end of the
Land of Allthetime the road divides, the way to the left leading
to the Brazen Gate called Chance, and the other, to the right,
going straight to the Golden Gate, Opportunity. And just here it
is, at the parting of the ways, that Wisdom lives in his little
house beside the road.

     When Really-Is in turn arrived at this place, he dismounted
from his tired horse, and approaching the little house, asked of
Wisdom if he had seen one pass that way riding in great haste.

     "Aye, that I have," replied Wisdom with a smile, "that I
have, young sir, and many would say that it was yourself who
rode so hard."

     "It was my brother, good sir," replied the prince." May I
ask which way he went and how far he rides ahead?"

     The old man, pointing, answered: "He took the road to the
left there and he rides so far ahead that you cannot now
overtake him this side the city walls."

     "At least I must try to overtake him," answered the prince,
and, thanking the old man, he turned quickly to mount his horse
again.

     But Wisdom cried, "Why so fast? Why so fast? Is not your
brother's name Seemsto-Be? And are not you, Really-Is, the
rightful heir to the throne of Allthetime?"

     "It is indeed so, sir," replied the young man sadly. "I am
Really-Is. I was born before my brother, Seemsto-Be, and am,
therefore, the rightful heir to the Crown. Our father, King
What-Soever-Youthink, is dead, and I must hasten or my brother
will be crowned king, for as you see, the people cannot tell us
one from the other."

     Then said Wisdom: "But you will gain nothing by haste, oh
Really-Is,--nothing but time, and there is much of greater value
than time to a King of Allthetime. Even now is Seemsto-Be
entering the city. Even now is he by the people being hailed
King. Therefore, tarry a while before you act and listen to my
words."

     So it was that Really-Is paused on his journey to sit
awhile with Wisdom in the little house by the side of the road.

     Then did Wisdom take from his shelves many a ponderous,
time worn volume and read to the prince History, Prophecy and
Law, revealing to him thus the Secret of the Magic of the Crown
of Allthetime.

     And from the last volume, that which Wisdom read to
Really-Is was this: "Be it known, O whosoever readeth, that if
any prince of the royal family Everyone enter the city Daybyday
through the Brazen Gate called Chance, he shall be forever held
unworthy of the throne and crown. In the sacred Law of All the
Ages it is written that a King of Allthetime may enter the Royal
City only through the Golden Gate Opportunity."

     Wisdom closed the book and returned this volume also to its
place.

     Really-Is arose to go."

     And what now is your mind, young sir?" asked Wisdom kindly.

     Then Really-Is answered royally. "This you have taught me,
O Wisdom--this is my mind: The Crown is not the kingdom, nor is
one King because he wears a crown."

     Then did Wisdom with bowed head salute the True King. "And
your will, Sire; may I know your Majesty's will?"

     King Really-Is replied: "My will is this: that I myself
obey the sacred Law of The Ages."

     "And your brother, Sire, your brother, Seemsto-Be?"

     "I will pity Seemsto-Be," replied The King in sorrow, "I
will have much pity for that poor, foolish one."

     "And peace will dwell in thy heart, O King of Allthetime,"
said Wisdom, "true peace and understanding."

     Then Really-Is, alone and unattended, rode slowly on his
way.

     And Seemsto-Be, who rode so fast and so far ahead of
Really-Is, and who paused not at the house of Wisdom, entered
the city Daybyday through the Brazen Gate called Chance, and was
received by the people of many races, languages, names and
religions as their king.

     With great tumult and shouting, with grand processions and
ceremonies, the false prince ascended the throne of Allthetime
and was crowned with the Magic Crown--the Crown of which no one
then knew its magic, but knew only that its magic was.

     Then began such times as were never before nor since seen
in Daybyday; with holiday after holiday for the people, with
festivals and parades, with carnivals and games, with feasting
and dancing; until the chief occupation of the people was
forgotten--until their many temples were empty, their many gods
neglected; until with a fete extraordinary, Seemsto-Be decreed
that there should be from henceforth and forever, in Daybyday,
one temple only--one temple sacred to one god, the god Things-
Are-Good-Enough.

     "And this, O Hadji," said the sad Voice of the Night, "is
all The Tale of The Uncrowned King that is given me to tell."
The Voice in the darkness ceased. The Pilgrim, rising, groped
his way to the window.

     Without, all was dark with a thick darkness--all was still
with a heavy stillness. Only the stars were in the Deeps Above.
The stars so old, so ever new--only the stars. Lifting his face,
the Pilgrim looked at the stars, and lo! as he looked, those
whirling worlds of light shaped themselves into mighty letters,
and the letters shaped themselves into words, until in the
heavens the Pilgrim read the truth that Wisdom had given to
Really-Is in the little house beside the road. "The Crown is not
the kingdom, nor is one King because he wears a crown."

     Then even as he stood the Pilgrim saw the sad Night
preparing to depart. Far away beyond the stars the first faint
light of the morning touched the sky. Slowly the world began to
awake. Slowly the message in the stars was lost in the dawning
greater light of A New Day.

CHAPTER V.
And the Fourth Voice was the Voice of the New Day

IT was gray dawn when the Pilgrim turned once more to his couch
in The Quiet Room.

     Without the Temple, tree and bush and plant and grass were
beginning to stir with fresh and joyous strength, while the
clean air was rich with the smell of the earth life and filled
with murmuring, twittering, whispering, morning calls. Through
the open window, into The Quiet Room where the Pilgrim lay, the
Bright Morning entered, and out of the Morning came the glad,
glad Voice of the New Day.

     Said this Voice to the Pilgrim: "To thee, O Hadji, I come
from the Infinite Future. The interminable, eternal times that
are to come, that begin but never end. I cry from the Deeps
Within. I call from the Great That Will Be. I, too, am a Voice
of Life, and mine it is to complete for you The Tale of The
Uncrowned King."

     And this is the part of the Tale that the Voice of the New
Day completed.

     Really-Is, the true King of Allthetime, after leaving
Wisdom in his little house beside the road, journeyed slowly and
thoughtfully toward the Royal City Daybyday, along the way that
leads to the Golden Gate Opportunity. And while the pretender,
Seemsto-Be, was delighting the people with great feasts, and
amusing them with all manner of festivals, parades and games,
Really-Is, very quietly--so quietly that his brother did not
know--entered the city and took up his abode in a tiny house
under the walls of a deserted temple once sacred to the god
Things-That-Ought-To-Be.

     And so it was that when Seemsto-Be went forth from the
royal palace to ride in grand procession, clothed in regal
splendors, with the Crown upon his head, and surrounded by
gorgeous soldiers of rank and pompous officials of state, with
the royal trumpeters proclaiming his greatness and power and the
multitude shouting loud expressions of their loyalty, Really-Is,
the King, stood still beside the way, smiling, smiling sadly at
the pretty show.

     And never did Really-Is neglect to make his offering every
morning in the temple sacred to the god Things-That-Ought-To-Be;
though in secret he worshiped there because of the decree of
Seemsto-Be. And no one told the false ruler that his commandment
was broken, nor spoke to him the name of his brother Really-Is.

     But after a while, as time passed by, things went not so
gaily with the imposter on the throne of Allthetime. And it was
the Crown that did it--that wonderful Magic Crown.

     The Court Fool noticed it first and made a jest about it,
and Seemsto-Be laughed royally long and loud, and all the Court
laughed with him, for the fool, Thinks-He-Is, is a most famous
fool, the greatest that has ever been since the Father of Fools
was born.

     Next, the Lord Chief High Chamberlain noticed, and the Lord
Chief High Chamberlain whispered to Seemsto-Be a most portentous
whisper. And the portentous whisper of the Lord Chief High
Chamberlain reached the ears of the Chief First Officer of
State; then passed from Officer of State to Officer of State
until it reached the Chief Captain of the Guard, and soon the
soldiers of the royal army and even the royal servants of the
palace were whispering, whispering, whispering about the strange
affair.

     Then it was that Seemsto-Be sent throughout the kingdom,
commanding in haste to the palace the most expert workers in
gems and the most cunning workers in gold to be found in the
Land of Allthetime.

     It was true. The priceless jewels of the Magic Crown were
losing their brilliancy. The precious gold of the Crown was
becoming dull. Nor could all the skill of the workers in gems,
all the craft of the workers in gold restore the beauty of the
Crown or keep its fading splendor.

     And so the whispers grew louder and louder until the people
began to talk in low tones among themselves, questioning,
questioning one another of the meaning of this thing. And at
last the Royal Officers of State began to look with distrust and
fear upon their ruler, who tried so hard to wear bravely his
crown of tarnished gold and lusterless gems; and the soldiers
came to look with doubt and fear upon the officers, who
whispered so among themselves; and the people looked with
suspicion and fear upon them all.

     Without understanding, filled with dread and apprehension,
worn with wracking worry, poor Seemsto-Be sought with honors,
decorations, and distinguishing titles to hold the fast-failing
confidence of his court and army, and with holidays more
frequent, festivals more gay, games more interesting, and
parades more gorgeous, tried to keep the waning loyalty of his
people.

     Now all this time, while the poor foolish pretender,
Seemsto-Be, was losing his power even as the beauty of the Magic
Crown was fading, King Really-Is lived very quietly in his
little house under the walls of the abandoned temple, and never
did he fail to make his daily offering to his god, the god
Things-That-Ought-To-Be. And always when his brother Seemsto-Be
with the fading Crown upon his head, passed in gorgeous
procession of state, surrounded by his distrustful officers,
doubting soldiers and suspicious people, Really-Is smiled sadly
and whispered to himself: "Poor Seemsto-Be, poor foolish one!"

     So it was, that in all the Royal City Daybyday, in the Land
of Allthetime, peace and understanding dwelt only in the heart
of this King.

     And the people more and more came to love Really-Is, even
as they more and more turned from Seemsto-Be, notwithstanding
the holidays, feasts and parades. Little by little, they learned
to watch daily for their King, and with the children would run
to greet him. More and more the multitude pressed about
Really-Is when he stood quietly in the street, watching
Seemsto-Be pass by in the splendid chariot of state. More and
more the people went daily with Really-Is to worship in the
temple sacred to the god Things-That-Ought-To-Be.

     So the time came at last when the Magic Crown, tarnished
and dull, seemed but a mockery, fit only for the rubbish heap;
when the Officers of State spoke aloud their doubts and fears
and the soldiers were openly disobedient; when the people, as
the pretender passed through the city streets, no longer shouted
aloud expressions of their loyalty, but, with dark looks of
doubt and anger, stood silent, or laughed in mocking glee.

     And Seemsto-Be grew afraid.

     Then in secret the false price went alone to the house of
his brother the King and prostrated himself humbly.

     "What is your wish, my brother?" asked Really-Is, kindly,
"make known to me your request."

     And Seemsto-Be taking heart at the gentleness of Really-Is
answered: "This is my wish, O King--my brother, this is my
request; that you come to dwell with me in the royal palace,
that you share with me the throne. Twins we are, sons of our
royal father, of the royal family Everyone. Therefore let us
rule together the Land of Allthetime.

     Answered Really-Is." By your coming to me, Seemsto-Be, I
know that you, too, at last have learned the Secret of the Magic
of the Crown. What of the Crown, brother?"

     And the pretender replied: "No one can tell us one from the
other. You only shall wear the Crown; then for us both will its
glory come again and remain, then will all be well."

     But King Really-Is answered sadly: "O my brother, that
which you ask cannot be. In the Law of the Ages it is written
that a King of Allthetime cannot, if he would, share his throne
and power with one who is false, else would he himself be held
unworthy I have seen your wretchedness, my brother; I have seen
and I have pitied."

     Then Seemsto-Be went sadly out from the presence of his
brother, the King, and the next morning they found him dead on
the steps of the temple sacred to the god
Things-Are-Good-Enough.

     And now with great tumult and shouting the people gathered
to do homage to Really-Is. And never was there seen in Daybyday
such a multitude. From the uttermost parts of Allthetime they
came, for the word of his life had gone far, far abroad and all
the world that is, gathered to do him honor.

     And it happened, when all was ready for Really-Is to ascend
the throne, and the royal trumpeters had lifted their trumpets
ready to proclaim him King of Allthetime, with the vast
multitude breathless, ready at the signal of the trumpets to
break forth in a great, glad shout, "Long live the king," and
the Lord Chief High Chamberlain turned to take the Magic Crown
from the hands of the High Priest of Things-That-Ought-To-Be,
that even as he turned the Crown vanished, and lo! there was in
the hands of the priest, nothing.

     In consternation the Lord Chief High Chamberlain whispered
to the royal high officials about him, asking what should be
done. In consternation, the royal high officials whispered among
themselves. In consternation they whispered back to the
Chamberlain.

     And this was their whisper: "Ask the King."

     Really-Is, when he was asked what should be done, answered
with a smile: "The Crown is not the kingdom, nor is one King
because he wears a Crown."

     And the people, when the trumpets made it known that there
was no crown and declared the word of Really-Is, with one voice
cried loudly: "Really-Is is King! Really-Is needs no Crown! Long
live Really-Is, our King!"

     Thus the True King ascended the throne of Allthetime, and
the trumpeters trumpeted loudly many times: "Long live the king
who needs no crown!" and with a great shout the people answered
again many times: "Long live our Uncrowned King! Long live our
Uncrowned King!"

     "And this, O Hadji," said the glad Voice of the New Day,
"is how it came to be that in the days that now are, there is,
in this Royal City Daybyday, in the wonderful Land of
Allthetime, no crown.

     And this also you must know, that in the reign of Really-Is
the people of Daybyday have more and more turned from their many
gods to worship only the god of their King, until there is left
now of the many deserted temples only ruins, and of the many
gods of the many people of many races, languages and names only
one, the god of Really-Is, Things-That-Ought-To-Be. The mighty
Wall that was built, they thought, on the foundations of the
world, when there was no longer a crown to keep, of its own
great weight fell. And the Royal City Daybyday, in the reign of
Really-Is, is extending its borders more and more, until there
are those who think that with the City Sometime it will soon be
one, and then they say that the promises made by Really-Is and
the Princess of Yettocome will be fulfilled and that the glory
and splendor of their reign will fill the world.

     "But of that, O Hadji," said the glad Voice of the New Day,
"I cannot tell you now. I have finished The Tale of The
Uncrowned King."

     The Voice that was in the Morning ceased. The Quiet Room
was filled with light. Quickly the Pilgrim arose and going to
the window saw in all its glory the New Day.

     Every leaf of the tall trees, every blade and every inwoven
flower in the velvet carpet of green, wore beads of shining
crystal that sparkled and glittered in radiant splendor. Every
tiny ripple that ran on the Beautiful Sea was a line of silver
flame. And in the overhead ocean of pearly light, floated
glowing banks of orange, and scarlet and gold, while, to the
Pilgrim, bird and tree and plant and flower and wave and cloud
seemed to join in one glad triumphant shout: "Long live
Really-Is! Long live The Uncrowned King!"

     Then the Pilgrim who had paid The Price, who had fulfilled
The Law of the Pilgrimage, who had asked of Thyself, the Keeper
of the Temple of Truth, "Why," went to lay his offering on the
altar to the god That-Never-Can-Change.

     And his offering was Himself.

                        THE END

THE CALLING OF DAN MATTHEWS

     "Mr. Wright has written other novels, but this one is so
strong and wholesome, so attractive as literature, so
interesting as a story, so artistic in preparation, that it wins
increasing favor as one gets into it."--Buffalo Evening News.

                         ------------

     "Mr. Wright has the gift of knowing people well and of
being able to set out their characteristics so clearly that his
reader also knows them well."--Chicago Journal.

                         ------------

     "It is a privilege to meet the people whom the author
allows you to know. They are worth while; and to cry and feel
with them, get into the fresh, sweet atmosphere with which the
writer surrounds them and above all, to understand Dan Matthews
and to go with him in his unfoldment these will repay
you."--Portland Spectator.

                         -----------

     "Harold Bell Wright has done a fine big piece of work. * *
* One might quote at length from the old doctor's homely
philosophy. The book can not be read without the keenest
enjoyment and at the end of the story one feels that the people
are old friends, real flesh and blood characters, so human are
they all."--San Francisco Call.The Shepherd of the Hills

     "There are many bits of excellent description in the course
of the story, and an atmosphere as fresh and sweet and free from
modern grime as one would breathe on the Ozark trails
themselves."--New York Times.

     "Amidst all the ordinary literature of the day, it is as a
pure, white stone set up along a dreary road of unending
monotony."--Buffalo Courier.

     "It is filled with laughs and tears, this beautiful story,
and no one can help laughing or crying in turn, if his heart is
right."--Pueblo Chieftain.

     "It is a heart-stirring story. A tale to bring laughter and
tears; a story to be read and read again."--Grand Rapids Herald.

That Printer of Udell's

"Altogether an estimable story."--New York Sun.
"Done to the life."--Chicago Tribune.
"Well written and decidedly interesting."--New York Times.
"A thoroughly good novel."--Boston Globe.
"Wrings tears and laughter."--Record-Herald, Chicago.
"Absorbing, thoughtful novel."--Kansas City Journal.
"Full of movement and passion."--Standard, Chicago.
"It is human to the very core."--Nashville American.
"Excellent character creation."--St. Louis Republic.
"Wholesome and strengthening."--Albany Press.
"Rich in humor and good sense."--Philadelphia Telegraph
"Full of thrilling interest and moral heroism."--Pittsburg
Dispatch.
"Many well drawn characters."--Washington Post.
"Has not a peer in English fiction."--Providence Telegram
"It is strong and wholesome."--Chicago Post.
"Not a chapter that is not interesting."--St. Paul News.
"It is a fascinating story."--Portland Telegram.
"It should be read to be understood."--Grand Rapids Herald.
"The reader's interest is stirred to its very depths"--Omaha
World-Herald.

[End.]
.
