THE BURIED SOUL

or by whatever other name the undemeatb spiritual reality is named — ^is rising into selfezpression through each part and fragment oi humanity, lifting lower levels up vnih it as it comes to its glory, it will be likely to find différences in the things that obstruct it and resist it ; for '' human material " is no more homogeneous than the earth crust. In some soils it is easy for the seed to grow ; in others it is hard ; there is the rock pressing dose upon it, the heavy clod, the impervious clay, the baked earth. Yet it puts eut its shoots and grows valiantly on, seeking upward to the light In some individuals the love-life finds an almost open course; ail men would be glad to acknowledge such their equals ; there is little résistance ; it is soon at the surface blossoming in the light. In others, the love-soul bas a barder task, bears a heavier burden ; there is a terrible knot of dark resisting things at the point where it is pushing upwards to manifestation, a clod of dull stupidity, a mass of sensually vibrant flesh. Yet the labour cannot be refused. The lower the life-levels within which it is buried, the barder for love to lift them, to transmute them ; but it is there to subject ail things unto itself . ^ Outwardly, he is the " craziest sot in the village," inwardly the huiûan situation at that point is more like this — the love-soul down among the very depths, buried beneath heavy encrustations (so that it is scarcely ever visible, most rardy if

i d Maeterlînck'8 MysHoêl MaraKty.