harvests; for seed sown in faith day by day is the nightly harvest
of the soul, and with the soul we work. With the soul we see."'

Captain Baskelett intervened: 'Ahem! I beg to observe that this
delectable rubbish is underlined by old Nevil's pencil.' He promised to
do a little roaring whenever it occurred, and continued with ghastly
false accentuation, an intermittent sprightliness and depression of tone
in the wrong places.

'"The soul," et caetera. Here we are!

"Desires to realize our gains are akin to the passion of usury;
these are tricks of the usurer to grasp his gold in act and
imagination. Have none of them. Work at the people!"

--At them, remark!--

"Moveless do they seem to you? Why, so is the earth to the sowing
husbandman, and though we cannot forecast a reaping season, we have
in history durable testification that our seasons come in the souls
of men, yea, as a planet that we have set in motion, and faster and
faster are we spinning it, and firmer and firmer shall we set it to
regularity of revolution. That means life!"

--Shrapnel roars: you will have Nevil in a minute.

"Recognize that now we have bare life; at best for the bulk of men
the Saurian lizard's broad back soaking and roasting in primeval
slime; or say, in the so-called teachers of men, as much of life as
pricks the frog in March to stir and yawn, and up on a flaccid leap