cannot produce the fruits of the ground, or even eat or warm themselves. The magic talisman they think they need for every action is money, and as there is only a limited amount of gold, every activity is paralyzed every so often by the lack of it, and then they destroy their surplus produce until the remainder is equal in value to their gold.”

The God drew a long breath. “Is there a talisman that can possibly be greater than I, their God, who gave them all the means of producing this abundance? Now hear my commands. Withdraw all these servants I have given the islanders, and replace them by one alone. Let that one be a machine that manufactures gold. Let it pour out gold till every inhabitant be buried to his neck in gold. Then let the talisman feed him, clothe him, shelter him and amuse him. I yield my throne to this talisman that has been given the sceptre of a god; but it shall have to prove that it can feed, shelter, clothe and amuse my people, or it shall perish with the race whose superstition has created it.”

And with tearful eyes the great God left the island and immediately on reaching the celestial heights he sought the Wise One and made obeisance, acknowledging the failure of His “experiment” and that he had learned from it what He needed to know, and would act on that knowledge.