flatland-第25章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　yet　I　confess　that　my　weekly　interviews；　at　least　in　one　respect；　cause　me　the　bitterest　pain。　　He　was　present　when　the　Sphere　manifested　himself　in　the　Council　Chamber；　he　saw　the　Sphere's　changing　sections；　he　heard　the　explanation　of　the　phenomena　then　given　to　the　Circles。　Since　that　time；　scarcely　a　week　has　passed　during　seven　whole　years；　without　his　hearing　from　me　a　repetition　of　the　part　I　played　in　that　manifestation；　together　with　ample　descriptions　of　all　the　phenomena　in　Spaceland；　and　the　arguments　for　the　existence　of　Solid　things　derivable　from　Analogy。　　Yet　　I　take　shame　to　be　forced　to　confess　it　　my　brother　has　not　yet　grasped　the　nature　of　the　Third　Dimension；　and　frankly　avows　his　disbelief　in　the　existence　of　a　Sphere。

Hence　I　am　absolutely　destitute　of　converts；　and；　for　aught　that　I　can　see；　the　millennial　Revelation　has　been　made　to　me　for　nothing。　Prometheus　up　in　Spaceland　was　bound　for　bringing　down　fire　for　mortals；　but　I　　poor　Flatland　Prometheus　　lie　here　in　prison　for　bringing　down　nothing　to　my　countrymen。　　Yet　I　exist　in　the　hope　that　these　memoirs；　in　some　manner；　I　know　not　how；　may　find　their　way　to　the　minds　of　humanity　in　Some　Dimension；　and　may　stir　up　a　race　of　rebels　who　shall　refuse　to　be　confined　to　limited　Dimensionality。

That　is　the　hope　of　my　brighter　moments。　　Alas；　it　is　not　always　so。　Heavily　weighs　on　me　at　times　the　burdensome　reflection　that　I　cannot　honestly　say　I　am　confident　as　to　the　exact　shape　of　the　once…seen；　oft…regretted　Cube；　and　in　my　nightly　visions　the　mysterious　precept；　〃Upward；　not　Northward〃；　haunts　me　like　a　soul…devouring　Sphinx。　It　is　part　of　the　martyrdom　which　I　endure　for　the　cause　of　the　Truth　that　there　are　seasons　of　mental　weakness；　when　Cubes　and　Spheres　flit　away　into　the　background　of　scarce…possible　existences；　when　the　Land　of　Three　Dimensions　seems　almost　as　visionary　as　the　Land　of　One　or　None；　nay；　when　even　this　hard　wall　that　bars　me　from　my　freedom；　these　very　tablets　on　which　I　am　writing；　and　all　the　substantial　realities　of　Flatland　itself；　appear　no　better　than　the　offspring　of　a　diseased　imagination；　or　the　baseless　fabric　of　a　dream。




　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　




End