Two men I honor, and no third. First, the toil worn craftsman, that with
earth-made implement laboriously conquers the earth, and makes her
man's. Venerable to me is the hard hand, crooked, coarse, wherein,
notwithstanding, lies a cunning virtue, indefeasibly royal, as of the
scepter of this planet. Venerable, too, is the rugged face, all weather
tanned, besoiled, with its rude intelligence; for it is the face of a
man living manlike.
Oh, but the more venerable for thy rudeness, and even because I must
pity as well as love thee! Hardly entreated brother! For us was thy back
so bent, for us were thy straight limbs and fingers so deformed. Thou
wert our conscript on whom the lot fell and, fighting our battles, wert
so marred. Yet toil on, toil on; ... thou toilest for the altogether
indispensable,--for daily bread.
A second man I honor, and still more highly; him who is seen toiling for
the spiritually indispensable; not daily bread, but the bread of life.
Is not he, too, in his duty; endeavoring towards inward harmony;
revealing this, by act or word, through all his outward endeavors, be
they high or low? Highest of all, when his outward and his inward
endeavor are one; when we can name him artist; not earthly craftsman
only, but inspired thinker, that with heaven-made implement conquers
heaven for us!
If the poor and humble toil that we may have food, must not the high and
glorious toil for him, in return, that he may have light and guidance,
freedom, immortality?--these two, in all their degrees, I honor; all
else is chaff and dust, which let the wind blow whither it listeth.
Unspeakably touching it is, however, when I find both dignities united;
and he, that must toil outwardly for the lowest of man's wants, is also
toiling inwardly for the highest. Sublimer in this world know I nothing
than a peasant saint. Such a one will take thee back to Nazareth itself;
thou wilt see the splendor of heaven spring forth from the humblest
depths of earth like a light shining in great darkness.
_Thomas Carlyle._
* * * * *
Laws are like cobwebs, where the small flies are caught, and the great
break through.
_Bacon_.
* * * * *
_13_
gust
thief
mop' ing
awk' ward
pet' tish ly
in dig' nant
un bear' a ble
med' dle some
en light' ened
in quis' i tive