CHAPTER ONE.

OF CERTAIN PEOPLE.


To begin a story of this kind at the beginning is hard; for when the
beginning may have been, no man knows. Perhaps it was a hundred years
ago--perhaps a thousand--perhaps ten thousand; and it may well be, yet
longer ago, even, than that. Yet it can be told that John Schuyler came
from a long line of clean-bodied, clean-souled, clear-eyed, clear-headed
ancestors; and from these he had inherited cleanness of body and of soul,
clearness of eye and of head. They had given him all that lay in their
power to give, had these honest, impassive Dutchmen and--women--these
broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped English; they had amalgamated for him
their virtues, and they had eradicated for him their vices; they had
cultivated for him those things of theirs that it were well to cultivate;
and they had plucked ruthlessly from the gardens of heredity the weeds
and tares that might have grown to check his growth. And, doing this,
they had died, one after another, knowing not what they had done--knowing
not why they had done it--knowing not what the result would be--doing
that which they did because it was in them to do it; and for no other
reason save that. For so it is of this world.

First, then, it is for you to know these things that I have told.
Secondly, it is for you to realize that there are things in this world of
which we know but little; that there are other things of which we may
sometime learn; that there are infinitely more things that not even the
wisest of us may ever begin to understand. God chooses to tell us nothing