"Make your little ones good, then, for you will have need of them. Yes, those who die like the dumb beasts—like the harlots and drunkards—even they will find good children most needful.
"And no one can complain who fails of the expiation of the good children, nor is there any one who with their help cannot grow wiser.
"If two travelers, wandering at night in the cold—the one having wood, the other matches—do not understand each other, both will suffer and be lost in the dark.
"And if two shipwrecked people have between them a single cocoanut, and one takes the milk and the other the meat, then they both will perish—one from hunger, the other from thirst.
"So, also, with wisdom; and no one lives upon the earth who can be wise alone."
Markus' voice rang loud and clear, and it was as still as death in the sultry field, among those ragged people. For a time he was silent, and Johannes was so moved he was softly weeping; although he by no means accurately understood the meaning of the discourse.
Finally, the husky voice sounded again, but now more gently:
"I'll be darned if I can make head or tail of it; but I take it for truth."
"Children," said Markus, "you are not bound to understand, and you are not bound to believe me; but will you, for my sake, remember it, word for word, and teach it to your children? Then I will be grateful to you."
Softly rang the voices here and there: "Yes—yes, indeed!"