“Yes; at the schools until noon.”
What! half of time for God, instead of seventh? Can the millennium have come here? Has, most likely, no one told them of the Sabbath? One day of seven? Well, we can keep both—certainly our Sabbath, and explain to these people why we do.
“One question more. Have you jails in this city? What do you do to people vicious in hot anger!”
He turns partly to me to see what I am asking; then, understanding me, he answers gravely: “Freeze them.”
Aunt Robet, now off duty, takes charge of us, conducting us to her sitting-room.
But two days pass, in which we endeavor to learn the Arc language, as none except the three already mentioned can converse with us, when Charley brings forth the masque.
“Oh, yes; but it cannot be a ball nor a domino party. I am curious at your idea. If it is beneficial and delightful as what I have already seen, I will be pleased to participate,” I reply, cautiously to my gentle mate, who, devoted to social assembly, and believing ennobling dancing as consistent as ennobling singing, he has no patience with my doubts.
“What am I to do?” I ask in prayer. Silent a gentle whisper breathes in answer, “It is one of the ten talents! beware of letting it rust!” One of talents, loaned us of God, and not a sin of the world? Or are the sins of the world perverted use of honorable talents, to be redeemed by us by honorable use? its omission, of condemnation.
Can I burnish and enlarge my consecration to Thee, oh God, in gay circle? Dost Thou truly love, also, happy faces? At the hall we don our costumes and are shown into a green bower, so banked with trees, shrubs, and plants there seems no space for guests. These, I soon discover, encostume everywhere about; I discover, also, much relieved, that the object is educational, only—to put us in touch with “the least of these” that God noteth.
A huge butterfly lights in front of me, greeting me cordially. So like a host I feel quite at home as a concourse of bugs, bees, and insects arise around, with waving wings, until I think I never saw before so moving a sight. A bee hummed in my ear—a sound like Charley; a mosquito sung in glee—a note like Saucy; a wasp with saucy eyes—Show Off. Moths in the windows, locusts in shady nooks, and a cricket adds its refrain. Sitting upon a scarlet ottoman, it moves off on its four feet—a live cochineal. Standing under an umbrella tree I was “darned” by a “needle” to a branch; a hopper hopped to a sheaf of wheat; lady-bugs minced; graybeards stalked around; a black-coated beetle handed me (as a weevil) a rose conserve, saying: “A ‘flour’ for you.” I accepted it, making room for him by my side. But soon the hostess, bringing to me a “bigbug,” who asked a promenade. Replying to him “May bee,” the beetle gets up and snaps spitefully away.