It chanced one stray seed of Immensity fell into the pretty, petty village of Cheasing Eyebright in Kent, and from the story of its queer germination there and of the tragic futility that ensued, one may attempt--following one thread, as it were--to show the direction in which the whole great interwoven fabric of the thing rolled off the loom of Time.
II.
Cheasing Eyebright had of course a Vicar.

There are vicars and vicars, and of all sorts I love an innovating vicar--a piebald progressive professional reactionary--the least.

But the Vicar of Cheasing Eyebright was one of the least innovating of vicars, a most worthy, plump, ripe, and conservative-minded little man.

It is becoming to go back a little in our story to tell of him.

He matched his village, and one may figure them best together as they used to be, on the sunset evening when Mrs.
Skinner--you will remember her flight!--brought the Food with her all unsuspected into these rustic serenities.
The village was looking its very best just then, under that western light.