"Why should life," he murmured aloud, "beginning in radiance, proceed in ever deepening gloom, and end at last in black night? Why, but for the false education in evil which is inflicted upon us! The joys, the unbounded bliss of childhood, do indeed gush from its innocence--its innocence of the blighting belief in mixed good and evil--innocence of the false beliefs, the undemonstrable opinions, the mad worldly ambitions, the carnal lust, bloated pride, and black ignorance of men! It all comes from not knowing God, to know whom is life eternal! The struggle and mad strife of man--what does it all amount to, when 'in the end he shall be a fool'? Do we in this latest of the centuries, with all our boasted progress in knowledge, really know so much, after all? Alas! we know nothing--nothing!" "Come, Padre," cried Carmen, returning to him, "we are going to just try now to have all the nice thoughts we can. Let's just look all around us and see if we can't think good thoughts about everything. And, do you know, Padre dear, I've tried it, and when I look at things and something tries to make me see if there could possibly be anything bad about them--why, I find there can't! Try it, and see for yourself." Josè knew it. He knew that the minds of men are so profaned by constantly looking at evil that their thoughts are tinged with it. He was striving to look up. But in doing so he was combating a habit grown mighty by years of indulgence. "When you always think good about a thing," the girl went on, "you never can tell what it will do. But good _always_ comes from it. I know. I do it all the time. If things look bad, I just say, 'Why look, here's something trying to tell me that two and two are seven!' And then it goes away." "Your purity and goodness resist evil involuntarily, little one," said Josè, more to himself than to the child. "Why, Padre, what big words!" "No, little one, it is just the meaning of the words that is big," he replied. The girl was silent for some moments. Then: "Padre dear, I never thought of it before--but it is true: we don't see the meaning of words with the same eyes that we see trees and stones and people, do we?" Josè studied the question. "I don't quite understand what you mean, _chiquita_," he was finally forced to answer. "Well," she resumed, "the meaning of a word isn't something that we can pick up, like a stone; or see, as we see the lake out there." "No, Carmen, the meaning is spiritual--mental; it is not physically tangible. It is not seen with the fleshly eyes." "The meaning of a word is the inside of it, isn't it?" "Yes, it is the inside, the soul, of the word." "And we don't see the word, either, do we?" She shook her brown curls in vigorous negation. "No, little one, we see only written or printed symbols; or hear only sounds that convey to us the words. But the words themselves are mental. We do not see them."