“Truth. We have no king; for Alma’s precepts rebuke the arrogance of place and power. He is the tribune of mankind; nor will his true faith be universal Mardi’s, till our whole race is kingless. But think not we believe in man’s perfection. Yet, against all good, he is not absolutely set. In his heart, there is a germ. _That_ we seek to foster. To _that_ we cling; else, all were hopeless!” “Your social state?” “It is imperfect; and long must so remain. But we make not the miserable many support the happy few. Nor by annulling reason’s laws, seek to breed equality, by breeding anarchy. In all things, equality is not for all. Each has his own. Some have wider groves of palms than others; fare better; dwell in more tasteful arbors; oftener renew their fragrant thatch. Such differences must be. But none starve outright, while others feast. By the abounding, the needy are supplied. Yet not by statute, but from dictates, born half dormant in us, and warmed into life by Alma. Those dictates we but follow in all we do; we are not dragged to righteousness; but go running. Nor do we live in common. For vice and virtue blindly mingled, form a union where vice too often proves the alkali. The vicious we make dwell apart, until reclaimed. And reclaimed they soon must be, since every thing invites. The sin of others rests not upon our heads: none we drive to crime. Our laws are not of vengeance bred, but Love and Alma.” “Fine poetry all this,” said Babbalanja, “but not so new. Oft do they warble thus in bland Maramma!” “It sounds famously, old man!” said Media, “but men are men. Some must starve; some be scourged.—Your doctrines are impracticable.” “And are not these things enjoined by Alma? And would Alma inculcate the impossible? of what merit, his precepts, unless they may be practiced? But, I beseech ye, speak no more of Maramma. Alas! did Alma revisit Mardi, think you, it would be among those Morals he would lay his head?” “No, no,” said Babbalanja, “as an intruder he came; and an intruder would he be this day. On all sides, would he jar our social systems.” “Not here, not here! Rather would we welcome Alma hungry and athirst, than though he came floating hither on the wings of seraphs; the blazing zodiac his diadem! In all his aspects we adore him; needing no pomp and power to kindle worship. Though he came from Oro; though he did miracles; though through him is life;—not for these things alone, do we thus love him. We love him from, an instinct in us;—a fond, filial, reverential feeling. And this would yet stir in our souls, were death our end; and Alma incapable of befriending us. We love him because we do.” “Is this man divine?” murmured Babbalanja. “But thou speakest most earnestly of adoring Alma:—I see no temples in your groves.”