"Your remarks savour of cynicism," replied Jay, "but I fear there is
much truth in them. It is only in the millennium, I suppose, that we
shall have the unthinkable happiness of seeing on all sides of us an
absolute conformity to our ideals."

In spite of the close, if somewhat formal, friendship between Jay and
Hamilton, the latter was often momentarily depressed by the resemblance
of this flawless character to, and its rigid contrasts from, his dead
friend Laurens. Jay was all that Laurens had passionately wished to be,
and apparently without effort; for nature had not balanced him with a
redeeming vice, consequently with no power to inspire hate or love. Had
he been a degree greater, a trifle more ambitious, or had circumstances
isolated him in politics, he would have been an even lonelier and
loftier figure than Washington, for our Chief had one or two redeeming
humanities; as it was, he stood to a few as a character so perfect that
they marvelled, while they deplored his lack of personal influence. But
his intellect is in the rank which stands just beneath that of the men
of genius revealed by history, and he hangs like a silver star of the
tropics upon the sometimes dubious fields of our ancestral heavens.
Nevertheless, he frequently inspired Hamilton with so poignant a longing
for Laurens that our impetuous hero was tempted to wish for an exchange
of fates.

"In the millennium we will all tell the truth and hate each other,"
answered Hamilton. "And we either shall all be fools, or those irritants
will be extinct; in any case we shall be happy, particularly if we have
someone to hate."

"Ah, now you jest," said Duane, smiling. "For you are logical or
nothing. _You_ may be happy when on the warpath, but the rest of us are
not. And you are the last man to be happy in a millennium by yourself."

They all laughed at this sally, for Hamilton was seldom silent. He
answered lightly:--

"Someone to fight. Someone to love. Three warm friends. Three hot
enemies. A sufficiency of delicate food and wine. A West Indian
swimming-bath. Someone to talk to. Someone to make love to. War.
Politics. Books. Song. Children. Woman. A religion. There you have the
essence of the millennium, embroider it as you may."

"And scenery," added Jay, devoutly.

The road for the last quarter of an hour had led up a steep hill, above
which other hills piled without an opening; and below lay the Hudson. As
they paused upon the bare cone of t