He, their gallant, was
respectfully silent, when Alice said, without lifting her eyes:
"I wonder if La Salle ever stood here? This is holy ground. No spot on
earth has a charm for me like this. I am in the temple. I see the
attentive, watchful priest feeding there (as she pointed) the holy
fire, and yonder, with upturned eyes, the great lawgiver worshipping
his god, as he comes up from his sleep, bringing day, warmth, light,
and life. Was not this worship pure? Was it not natural? The sun came
in the spring and awoke everything to life. The grass sprang from the
ground and the leaves clothed the trees; the birds chose their mates
and the flowers gladdened the fields; everything was redolent of life,
and everything rejoiced. He went away in the winter, and death filled
the land. There were no leaves, no grass, no flowers. All nature was
gloomy in death. Could any but a god effect so much? The sun was their
god; his temple was the sky, and his holy fire burned on through all
time. Beautiful conception! Who can say it is not the true faith?"
"To the unlettered mind, it was," answered the young gentleman;
"because the imagination could only be aided by the material presented
to the natural eye.
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