An index finger

“All the Sutras are but fingers that point out the shining moon.”

“Man, thou livest forever.”

Has any one supposed it is lucky to be born?

I hasten to inform him, or her, it is just as lucky to die, and I know it.

This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look’d at the crowded heaven.

And I said to my spirit: When we become the unfolders of those orbs, and the pleasure and knowledge of everything in them, shall we be filled and satisfied then?

And my spirit said: No, we but level that lift to pass and continue beyond.

--WALT WHITMAN.

R. F. FENNO & COMPANY, 9 and 11 EAST SIXTEENTH STREET: NEW YORK CITY 1898

Copyright, 1897 BY TULIS ABROJAL.

An Index Finger.

DEDICATION.

To those who faithfully follow their ideals, ever doing the work they love to do, always giving to the world the best that is in them--the truth as they see it--though in the face of difficulties, disasters and defeat; enduring persecution, poverty and want, meeting the dread spectre of starvation, suffering death itself if need be, yet counting all not too great a price to pay for the freedom of their souls, this book is sympathetically dedicated.

CONTENTS.