"And to this form of words, made by man," objected Moodie, "you attribute a divine character, little, if at all, below that which belongs to the word of God."
"So far as it consists of the language of Scripture, rightly applied, it is divine," said L'Isle. "But it is an error to say that our liturgy, or any other worthy to be named, was made by a man, or the men of any one age. It has a more catholic origin than that. The spiritual experience of devout men of many centuries of Christianity, realizing the needs of sinful humanity in its intercourse with its Maker and Redeemer, and the comforting Spirit, have helped to build it up, and thus adapted it, in its parts of general application, to the spiritual wants, at all times, of every child of Adam."
"You speak up finely for your formal service, sir," said Moodie; "and I may not be scholar enough to answer you. But every spiritual minded man knows that it only fetters the spirit in prayer."
"Yet we might infer," said L'Isle, "from a passage in the Revelations of St. John, that a liturgy is used by the four and twenty elders who stand before the throne."
"You and Moodie do not seem to get any nearer to each other," said Mrs. Shortridge, "in your rambles through the mazes of controversy."
"We only need here a well-trained son of Rome," answered L'Isle, "to make confusion worse confounded. Luckily, Moodie and I can fight out our duel in quiet, without having a dexterous adversary come in as thirdsman, and kill us both."
The muleteer, who had shown signs of impatience unusual with him, now pointed to the sun; in a few minutes they were again on the road, which was but a bridle-path, and the country promised less and less as they rode on. Their guide looked around doubtingly, and at length turned aside to a half ruinous cottage, the only habitation they had seen for miles, where he closely questioned an old woman whom he found there as to the way before them. Little satisfied with her directions, he presently stopped an idiotic looking fellow, with a huge head, whom they met driving some milch goats toward the hovel, and questioned him. The goatherd stood staring at the party with open mouth, and gave little heed to him. But, at length, being pressed for an answer, he gave one in a harsh voice with great volubility, and much action, as if drawing in the air a map of the whole country around. The muleteer seemed satisfied, and they again moved on over a waste of low, rolling hills, without a tree upon them. Unlike the heaths of the north of Europe, it was covered with a false show of fertility, displaying a variety of plants; among them several species of heath, one six feet high, and entirely covered with large red flowers, another, smaller indeed, but with flowers of a yet more lively red. Here, too, were the yellow-flowered cisti, and many other plants with blossoms of many hues, perfuming the air while they delighted the eye. But the stunted juniper bushes, and the myrtles, not luxuriant and beautiful, like those growing on the banks of the rivulets, but dwarfish to the humble size of weeds, told of a land of starvation under this wilderness of sweets.
Lady Mabel, much as she loved flowers, was sated here, and owned that no profusion of them could make a landscape. "There is a dreary monotony in a scene like this, that words cannot express. The sky of brass over our heads, and this treeless, lifeless sea of sandy hillocks around us, excite a feeling of desolation and solitude, which forces me to look round on our party to convince myself that I am not alone in the world."
The muleteer, who was some way ahead, now stopped short. Riding up, they saw that the path here divided into two, and heard him heaping curses on the huge head of the simpleton, who had forgotten to tell him which to follow. But, on L'Isle's asking what they should do now, he dismounted, and stepped up to consult his wisest mule, which he did by slipping the bridle from his head. At once, sure instinct came to faltering reason's aid; the beast turned complacently into the right hand path, and moving briskly on, jingled his bells more cheerily than before, as if he already saw the open stable door, and snuffed his evening meal. Their path bending westward, they now saw clouds mustering on the heights before them, and one of April's sudden showers drawing near.
Within less then a mile, they came upon a hedge of American aloes, which, with their close array of massive leaves, each ending in a sharp point, protected an orchard. Following its course a few rods, they came to a rude gateway, which admitted them into a small cattle-yard, and a low, unpretending farm-house stood before them.