soon will I be testing all these things," murmured Mohi.

"Old man," said Media, "thy years and Mohi's lead ye both to dwell
upon the unknown future. But speak to me of other themes. Tell me of
this island and its people. From all I have heard, and now behold, I
gather that here there dwells no king; that ye are left to yourselves;
and that this mystic Love, ye speak of, is your ruler. Is it so? Then,
are ye full as visionary, as Mardi rumors. And though for a time, ye
may have prospered,--long, ye can not be, without some sharp lesson to
convince ye, that your faith in Mardian virtue is entirely vain."

"Truth. We have no king; for Alma's precepts rebuke the arrogance of
place and power. He is the tribune of mankind; nor will his true faith
be universal Mardi's, till our whole race is kingless. But think not
we believe in man's perfection. Yet, against all good, he is not
absolutely set. In his heart, there is a germ. _That_ we seek to
foster. To _that_ we cling; else, all were hopeless!"

"Your social state?"

"It is imperfect; and long must so remain. But we make not the
miserable many support the happy few. Nor by annulling reason's laws,
seek to breed equality, by breeding anarchy. In all things, equality
is not for all. Each has his own. Some have wider groves of palms than
others; fare better; dwell in more tasteful arbors; oftener renew
their fragrant thatch. Such differences must be. But none starve
outright, while others feast. By the abounding, the needy are
supplied. Yet not by statute, but from dictates, born half dormant in
us, and warmed into life by Alma. Those dictates we but follow in all
we do; we are not dragged to righteousness; but go running. Nor do we
live in common. For vice and virtue blindly mingled, form a union
where vice too often proves the alkali. The vicious we make dwell
apart, until reclaimed. And reclaimed they soon must be, since every
thing invites. The sin of others rests not upon our heads: none we
drive to crime. Our laws are not of vengeance bred, but Love and
Alma."

"Fine poetry all this," said Babbalanja, "but not so new. Oft do they
warble thus in bland Maramma!"

"It sounds famously, old man!" said Media, "but men are men. Some must
starve; some be scourged.--Your doctrines are impracticable."

"And are not these things enjoined by Alma? And would Alma inculcate
the impossible? of what merit, his precepts, unless they may be
practiced? But, I beseech ye, speak no mo