sound in one of the hymns on one of our feast-days?"

"Who mortals and immortals rules alone."

"How, indeed?" cried one of his young companions. "There would be more
sense in what the priests say and sing, if each were not quarrelling for
his own,--Dagon against Astarte, and Astarte against Dagon."

The old captain bent over, that the poets might not hear him, and
whispered: "There it is that the Hebrews have so much more heart than we
in such things. Miserable fellows though they are, so many of them, yet,
when I have gone through their whole land with the caravans, the chances
have been that any serious-minded man spoke of no God but this '_He_'
of David's."

"What is his name?"

"They do not know themselves, I believe."

"Well, as I said an hour ago, God's man or Dagon's man,--for those are
good names enough for me,--I care little; but I should like to sing as
that young fellow does."

"My boy," said the old man, "have not you heard him enough to see that
it is not _he_ that sings, near as much as this love of his for a Spirit
he does not name? It is that spirited heart of his that sings."

"_You_ sing like him? Find his life, boy; and perhaps it may sing for
you."