We be craftsmen together, thou and I.Here is a new book of white English paper: here be sharpened pencils two and three--thick and thin, all good for a scribe.

Now lend me thy spectacles.' The Curator looked through them.

They were heavily scratched, but the power was almost exactly that of his own pair, which he slid into the lama's hand, saying: 'Try these.' 'A feather! A very feather upon the face.' The old man turned his head delightedly and wrinkled up his nose.

'How scarcely do I feel them! How clearly do I see!' 'They be bilaur--crystal--and will never scratch.

May they help thee to thy River, for they are thine.' 'I will take them and the pencils and the white note-book,' said the lama, 'as a sign of friendship between priest and priest--and now--' He fumbled at his belt, detached the open-work iron pincers, and laid it on the Curator's table.