“Oh, John Mayrant! Good and evil draw us on like a span of horses, sometimes like a tandem, taking turns in the lead. Order has melted into disorder, and disorder into new order—how many times?”
“But better each time.”
“How can you know, who never lived in any age but your own?”
“I know we have a higher ideal.”
“Have we? The Greek was taught to love his neighbor as himself. He gave his great teacher a cup of poison. We gave ours the cross.”
Again he looked away from me into the sweet old churchyard. “I can’t answer you, but I don’t believe it.”
This brought me to gayety. “That’s unanswerable, anyhow!”
He still stared at the graves. “Those people in there didn’t think all these uncomfortable things.”
“Ah! no! They belonged in the first volume of the history of our national soul, before the bloom was off us.”
“That’s an odd notion! And pray what volume are we in now?”