"To destroy one is to produce two," sighed Harold.
"There's nothing to be done but to strike at the root," I said.
"What's that?" said Harold.
"Man's evil propensities," I said.
"Humph," said Harold. "If I could manage the works now! They say
the shares are to be had for an old song."
"Oh, Harry, don't have anything to do with them," I entreated. "They
have ruined every creature who has meddled with them, and done
unmitigated mischief."
Harold made no answer, but the next day he was greatly stimulated by
a letter from Prometesky, part of which he read to me, in its perfect
English, yet foreign idiom.
"I long to hear of the field of combat we had to quit, because one
party was too stolid, the other too ardent. I see it all before me
with the two new champions freshly girded for the strife, but a
peaceful strife, my friend. Let our experience be at least
profitable to you, and let it be a peaceful contention of emulation
such as is alone suited to that insular nation which finds its
strongest stimulus in domestic comfort and wealth. Apropos, has some
one pursued a small discovery of mine, that, had I not been a
stranger of a proscribed nation, and had not your English earl and
the esquires been hostile to all save the hereditary plough, might
have found employment for thousands and prevented the history of your
fathers and of myself? That bed of argillaceous deposit around the
course of your Lerne, which I found to be of the same quality as the
porcelain clay of Meissen, does it still merely bear a few scanty
blades of corn, or is its value appreciated, and is it occupying
hundreds of those who starved and were discontented, to the great
surprise of their respectable landlords? I wonder whether a few
little figures that I modelled in the clay for specimens, and baked
in my hostess's oven, are still in existence.
Pages:
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108