"The principles on which our national institutions are founded, if they have the vital force you attribute to them, will prevail. Let patience have its perfect work." "Sloth is not patience." "The world is full of evils. You have not found that out yet, but you will. You have spied this one, and, young Red-Cross Knight, you must forthwith meet the monster in mortal combat. Every country has its household foe, its bosom viper, its vampire, its incubus. We are blessed in comparison with others; but we are not celestial yet. We are on the same earth with Europe, if we are on the other side of it. We have our mortal portion; but, young and strong, our country can bear its incumbrance more easily than the rest." "She can throw it off more easily." "Leave her to outgrow it. Let her ignore, forget it." "Prometheus could as soon forget his vulture!" "We will talk of something else." We talked of something else for about half a mile, and then the Doctor, turning to Harry, said,-- "There is enough to do; and you, of all persons, have laid out enough, without embarking in a crusade against slavery. Write your histories; show the world that it has known nothing about itself up to this time; set up your model farm; aid by word and example to restore to the culture of the ground its ancient dignity; carry out, or try to carry out, any or all of the projects with which your young brain is teeming; but do not throw yourself into an utterly thankless work. I laugh, but I am in earnest. I do hope something from you, Harry. Do not disappoint us all!" "It is the work of our time. I cannot refuse myself to it." "Who calls you to it? Who made you arbiter here? From whom have you your warrant?" Harry did not answer. I spoke for him:-- "'From that supernal Judge who stirs good thoughts In every breast of strong authority, To look into the blots and stains of right.'" Harry turned to me with a look, grateful, earnest, nobly humble: he longed to believe an oracle in these words, yet hardly dared. "I do not know yet whether I am called to it," he said, after a few moments of grave silence; "but I stand ready. I do not know yet what I am worth. It must be years before I am prepared to be useful, if I can be. But when the time comes, if it is found that I have anything to give, I shall give it to that cause." He spoke solemnly and with a depth of resolution which showed him moved by no new or transient impulse. The Doctor's lips were compressed, as if he forbade himself to answer. He walked away and looked at some flowers, or seemed to look at them, and then strolled along slowly by himself. We observed the same pace with him, but did not attempt to join him. When we came near the grove, Doctor Borrow took his way toward it, and we followed him. He sat down on a bench; I took my place beside him, and Harry his, as usual, on the grass near us. The Doctor, refreshed by the little interval of solitude, was ready to talk again.