And we watched him steal into one of the circles of children... he did not stroke their hair... he did not kiss their cheeks... he did not say, of such is the kingdom of heaven... rather he spread out to them his palm, in which lay a sharp instrument, and said: Follow me, you little wretches, and I will teach you how to shoot!!

And he saw the dead man borne on shoulders... his father behind him wailing... and he said to the mourners: Quicken your pace to the graveyard... the world has not lost much by the death of this idler!!

And he looked at the blind man and mocked his blindness... and at the paralytic and said... survival is for the fittest!!

Yes, behold, he is now among us... circling and circling and speaking many words that issue from his mouth like a tempest, a cannon on his shoulder and a gleaming blade in his right hand.

•

Bells ring and hymns rise... incense burns and perfumes are poured out...

And in a moment of my soul's lucidity I disowned all of that, and lifted toward heaven two eyes in which bewilderment stirred and sorrow churned...

And from behind a cloud of transparent weave I glimpsed the old face looking down on me, sweet and gentle... and sad...

And I noticed on the lips a parting from which came a deep, moving voice:

O children of darkness... I poured light into your darkness and opened my paradise to you... and I asked you to tear off your masks and strip yourselves of your hypocrisy... but you refused, and it was too hard for you to give up the worn and familiar...

I taught you mercy, and you said it is the sister of weakness... and contentment, and you said it is the creed of the dull-witted... and forbearance, and you said it is the plea of the defeatist... and love, and you said our hearts are narrower than your world...

I dwelt among you for a time, during which I suffered in my estrangement... and was

tormented by my hunger, and pained by my failure... and I found myself a stranger even in temples which, I see, you raised only to worship your own selves in them...

I gave you my message and sealed it with my wounds, and you mocked my teachings... my spilled blood did not move you... nor the mark of the nails in my palms and the crown of thorns on my brow...

No—my place is not among you... you are not of me and I am

not of you...

Here is your new Christ... the Christ of violence and force... of arrogance and selfishness... the Christ of greed and fornication... the Christ of the atom... follow him... and enter his religion in throngs...

As for me, my place is among the broken of heart... the crushed of feeling... and the tormented of soul—and I see no place for these in your land... O children of darkness!!

Hoover De Luxe 612

At last

The new Hoover model

Hoover "DE LUXE" 612

Price: 270 Lebanese lira, complete with cleaning attachments

General agents: Henry Hebald & Co. — Bab Idriss