author - "Marie Corelli"
f Nero!" thought Walden, as his eyes wandered from the thrush on the almond tree, back to the volume in his hand,--"With all our teaching and preaching, we can hardly do better. I wonder---"Here his mind became altogether distracted from classic lore, by the appearance of a very unclassic boy, clad in a suit of brown corduroys and wearing hob-nailed boots a couple of sizes too large for him, who, coming suddenly out from a box-tree alley behind the gabled corner of the rectory,
his need of head covering, and he seemed unconscious of, or else indifferent to, the hot glare of the summer sky which was hardly tempered by the long shadow of the floating cloud. At some moments he was absorbed in reading,--at others in writing. Close within his reach was a small note-book in which from time to time he jotted down certain numerals and made rapid calculations, frowning impatiently as though the very act of writing was too slow for the speed of his thought. There was a
ess worse than death.Recognizing, therefore, that in this cultivated age a wall ofscepticism and cynicism is gradually being built up by intellectualthinkers of every nation against all that treats of the Supernaturaland Unseen, I am aware that my narration of the events I haverecently experienced will be read with incredulity. At a time whenthe great empire of the Christian Religion is being assailed, orpolitely ignored by governments and public speakers and teachers, Irealize to the fullest
n creed he so specially condemned,--for each one wore on his breast a massive golden crucifix, hung to a chain and fastened with a jewelled star."Cross and Star!" he mused, as he noticed this brilliant and singular decoration, "an emblem of the fraternity, I suppose, meaning ... what? Salvation and Immortality? Alas, they are poor, witless builders on shifting sand if they place any hope or reliance on those two empty words, signifying nothing! Do they, can they honestly believe
f Nero!" thought Walden, as his eyes wandered from the thrush on the almond tree, back to the volume in his hand,--"With all our teaching and preaching, we can hardly do better. I wonder---"Here his mind became altogether distracted from classic lore, by the appearance of a very unclassic boy, clad in a suit of brown corduroys and wearing hob-nailed boots a couple of sizes too large for him, who, coming suddenly out from a box-tree alley behind the gabled corner of the rectory,
his need of head covering, and he seemed unconscious of, or else indifferent to, the hot glare of the summer sky which was hardly tempered by the long shadow of the floating cloud. At some moments he was absorbed in reading,--at others in writing. Close within his reach was a small note-book in which from time to time he jotted down certain numerals and made rapid calculations, frowning impatiently as though the very act of writing was too slow for the speed of his thought. There was a
ess worse than death.Recognizing, therefore, that in this cultivated age a wall ofscepticism and cynicism is gradually being built up by intellectualthinkers of every nation against all that treats of the Supernaturaland Unseen, I am aware that my narration of the events I haverecently experienced will be read with incredulity. At a time whenthe great empire of the Christian Religion is being assailed, orpolitely ignored by governments and public speakers and teachers, Irealize to the fullest
n creed he so specially condemned,--for each one wore on his breast a massive golden crucifix, hung to a chain and fastened with a jewelled star."Cross and Star!" he mused, as he noticed this brilliant and singular decoration, "an emblem of the fraternity, I suppose, meaning ... what? Salvation and Immortality? Alas, they are poor, witless builders on shifting sand if they place any hope or reliance on those two empty words, signifying nothing! Do they, can they honestly believe