“Call ye us brothers, whom ere now ye never saw?”
“Even so,” said the old man, “is not Oro the father of all? Then, are we not brothers? Thus Alma, the master, hath commanded.”
“This was not our reception in Maramma,” said Media, “the appointed place of Alma; where his precepts are preserved.”
“No, no,” said Babbalanja; “old man! your lesson of brotherhood was learned elsewhere than from Alma; for in Maramma and in all its tributary isles true brotherhood there is none. Even in the Holy Island many are oppressed; for heresies, many murdered; and thousands perish beneath the altars, groaning with offerings that might relieve them.”
“Alas! too true. But I beseech ye, judge not Alma by all those who profess his faith. Hast thou thyself his records searched?”
“Fully, I have not. So long, even from my infancy, have I witnessed the wrongs committed in his name; the sins and inconsistencies of his followers; that thinking all evil must flow from a congenial fountain, I have scorned to study the whole record of your Master’s life. By parts I only know it.”
“Ah! baneful error! But thus is it, brothers!! that the wisest are set against the Truth, because of those who wrest it from itself.”
“Do ye then claim to live what your Master hath spoken? Are your precepts practices?”
“Nothing do we claim: we but earnestly endeavor.”
“Tell me not of your endeavors, but of your life. What hope for the fatherless among ye?”