"The God-inspired sing and talk of the great life, but they do not live it themselves, and that is why they never really succeed in delivering their messages. And they may continue to write books and compose music, to paint pictures and build temples and
hew statues so long as this planet is habitable, but these things are merely an imitation of the reality—a reflection of the ideal in man. The delivered man must stand above his art and science. He must recognize that he himself is the well-spring, the source of his inspiration and is greater than his emotional expressions. The true message can never be delivered to the world until the life for which these things stand is actually lived out, becomes a part of man's daily life."
"And you intend to deliver that message, I suppose?" observed the Colonel sarcastically, smiling compassionately and twirling the end of his mustache.
"In my own humble way, yes, but I ask no man to follow me!" A chorus of laughter, in which were mingled the voices of Blanch and Bessie who had just joined the group, greeted this confession.
"Did you ever hear the like of the conceit?" exclaimed Mrs. Forest as the laughter subsided.
"Excuse my frankness, Jack, but you're an ass," said the Colonel tartly.
"You set an example to the world? Why, you're as spoiled as the rest of us!" cried Bessie.
"Quite true, Cousin, but with this difference, I realize that fact and the rest of you do not."
"What a charming pedestal you have placed yourself upon, Jack," said Blanch, seating herself beside Mrs. Forest.
"Perhaps," returned the Captain dryly, "but of one thing I am certain. Few people are better prepared to speak on this matter than I am."