ise; but
all the practical ones thought of nothing else but counting nail-heads all
the afternoon, even though they knew they would not be allowed to carry so
much as one brass knob away with them. But no--it was, "Who has most
nails? I have a hundred, and you have fifty"; or, "I have a thousand, and
you have two. I must have as many as you before I leave the house, or I
cannot possibly go home in peace." At last, they made so much noise that I
awoke, and thought to myself, "What a false dream that is, of _children_!"
The child is the father of the man; and wiser. Children never do such
foolish things. Only men do.

But there is yet one last class of persons to be interrogated. The wise
religious men we have asked in vain; the wise contemplative men, in vain;
the wise worldly men, in vain. But there is another group yet. In the
midst of this vanity of empty religion, of tragic contemplation, of
wrathful and wretched ambition, and dispute for dust, there is yet one
great group of persons, by whom all these disputers live--the persons who
have determined, or have had it by a beneficent Providence determined for
them, that they will do something useful; that whatever may be prepared
for them hereafter, or happen to them here, they will, at least, deserve
the food that God gives them by winning it honorably: and that, however
fallen from the purity, or far from the peace, of Eden, they will carry
out the duty of human dominion, though they have lost its felicity; and
dress and keep the wilderness, though they no more can dress or keep the
garden.

These--hewers of wood and drawers of water; these--bent under burdens, or
torn of scourges; these--that dig and weave that plant and build; workers
in wood, and in marble, and in iron--by whom all food, clothing,
habitation, furniture, and means of delight are produced, for themselves,
and for all men beside; men, whose deeds are good, though their words may
be few; men, whose lives are serviceable, be they never so short, and
worthy of honor, be they never so humble--from these surely, at least, we
may receive some clear message of teaching; and pierce, for an instant,
into the mystery of life, and of its arts.

Yes; from these, at last, we do receive a lesson. But I grieve to say,--or
rather, for that is the deeper truth of the matter, I rejoice to
say,--this message of theirs can only be received by joining them, not by
thinking about them.

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