down into hell. If God does forgive sins, let Him forgive them, and then we must forgive ourselves. Twain illustrates this point with the episode involving the death of Nikalous. "His mother could not forgive herself and could not be comforted. It shows how foolish people are when they blame themselves for anything they have done." It was this apparent contradiction between the theory of religion and the actual practice of religion that caused Twain his greatest concern and developed his attitude of man being in a lowly and pitiful condition. It was this conflict that caused him to say, with great bitterness, that "pity is for the living; envy is for the dead. Each person is born to one possession which outvalues all his others his last breath." Twain's Pessimism As previously stated, The Mysterious Stranger is a view of life colored with a great deal of pessimism. Some unthinking readers dismiss this pessimism because they do not agree with Twain's attitude. They prefer to bury their heads in the sand and remain untouched. By doing so, they commit mental suicide, for they are afraid of the personal introspection that a conflicting view might produce. They are afraid they will find themselves saying, as Mark Twain once did, that: I believed and was happy in it; you have taken away my belief, and my comfort. Now I have nothing left, and I die miserable, for the things which you have told me do not take the place of that which I have lost. However, they actually lose more by not exposing their intellect to additional insight into life. When most of us are confronted by our true selves and lift our heads from the sands that shield us from reality, we are each confronted with a mysterious stranger. We are indeed naked, for we have lost the protecting robes of our society and find our true attitudes toward life and God exposed. Mark Twain was concerned with the power of social pressure, the inconsistency of a superficial view of life, and the fallacy of hiding behind a religion rather than living a religion. He was troubled by his interpretation of Diety. His attitudes in these areas whether reasonable or unreasonable, valid or invalid should prompt us all to search within ourselves for better understanding. It is not the malevolence of the superior powers that makes The Mysterious Stranger so tragic. The chief tragedy lies in the utter indifference towards mankind which Satan exhibits. The chief tragedy that any of us can experience in life lies in our utter indifference toward mankind, toward ourselves, toward life, and toward God. Our lack of perception becomes our downfall and our damnation. TANKA Yesterday, I dreamed I was a pretty yellow Butterfly. Today, I think I'm a butterfly Dreaming that I am a man. -Weldon Champneys 6 LAROUE TOURNE / Celestia Oborne My full-length reflection smiled a rosy assurance and I glittered as I passed myself on the closet door. A thorough spray of "Intimate" added the final touch and I escaped from my lavender-carpeted bedroom, slightly drugged by the rich fragrance. I stepped out into the cool night wind, savoring the softness of silky hair brushing my cheeks. "Okay, Charlie," I grinned as I slipped into the driver's seat of the Rambler and carefully leaned across the seat to hand him a large uncovered cake. It had been meticulously frosted to resemble a baby duck in color and shape, and I smiled at it with unconcealed pleasure. Charles balanced it cautiously on his lap, trying awkwardly to steady it with his large fingers on the edge of the platter. "It's a boss cake," he told me as he surveyed it almost tenderly. "Maybe you'll even win that decorating contest." "Maybe," I replied and my voice became muffled as I started the car. "There will be some cute girls there tonight," I said, raising my voice, "and I promise not to introduce you as my baby brother." He grinned self-consciously. He shouldn't have any trouble getting acquainted I told myself, noticing his dark wavy hair, large, innocent brown eyes, smoothly carved face, and soft mouth all at once. We'd always contended that Charles had inherited all of the family's best looks. Funny that he could be so genuinely handsome and so shy at the same time. Minutes later I was stopped in left lane waiting to turn on to campus. A new Impala in front of us was poised to turn also, and I was vaguely annoyed with having to wait. My signal sounded like water dripping into an empty tin can and was iLlustratingly unsycronized with the red blinking of the light ahead of me. The tall fins moved out, starting to cross the on-coming lane and I eased off my brakes, thinking "Wonder if Ross will ask me to cha cha!" Then I began out loud, "Now, when we get there." but was interrupted by a terrific jar from behind and an engulfing noise that was too loud to interpret. For a milli-second I was suspended in a vacuum, then gravity returned, pinned me to the seat, and threw me forward again, simultaneously accompanied by one distinguishable sound, that of falling glass. It was like part of a frightening and uncontrollable carnival ride. Helplessly I watched the taillights ahead of us lurch backward into our headlights. We twirled around and came to rest in the same tingling, sickening stillness that comes when the "ride" is over. Charles and I looked at each other in amazed bewilderment. "Let's see what happened," I suggested, suddenly feeling the need to have a voice in whatever it was. "That lady is bleeding," Charles said, looking out the window and trying to get his door open. Mine opened with an agonized groan, and he climbed out the driver's side. "Go help her," I yelled at him as he ran across the highway to where a hugh old oldsmobile sprawled like a wounded reptile with its nose smashed in. "You all right, lady?" A man had appeared out of the black night air and stood behind me, but I wasn't startled. I felt the roughness of (continued)