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such a rate that I was willing to give a little turn to the
conversation。
Oh； very well；said the Master；I had some more things to say；
but I don't doubt they'll keep。 And besides； I take an interest in
entomology； and have my own opinion on the meloe question。
You don't mean to say you have studied insects as well as solar
systems and the order of things generally？
He looked pleased。 All philosophers look pleased when people say
to them virtually； 〃Ye are gods。〃 The Master says he is vain
constitutionally； and thanks God that he is。 I don't think he has
enough vanity to make a fool of himself with it； but the simple truth
is he cannot help knowing that he has a wide and lively intelligence；
and it pleases him to know it； and to be reminded of it； especially
in an oblique and tangential sort of way； so as not to look like
downright flattery。
Yes； yes； I have amused a summer or two with insects； among other
things。 I described a new tabanus；horsefly； you know；which； I
think； had escaped notice。 I felt as grand when I showed up my new
discovery as if I had created the beast。 I don't doubt Herschel felt
as if he had made a planet when he first showed the astronomers
Georgium Sidus； as he called it。 And that reminds me of something。
I was riding on the outside of a stagecoach from London to Windsor in
the yearnever mind the year； but it must have been in June； I
suppose； for I bought some strawberries。 England owes me a sixpence
with interest from date； for I gave the woman a shilling； and the
coach contrived to start or the woman timed it so that I just missed
getting my change。 What an odd thing memory is； to be sure； to have
kept such a triviality； and have lost so much that was invaluable！
She is a crazy wench； that Mnemosyne； she throws her jewels out of
the window and locks up straws and old rags in her strong box。
＇De profundis！ said I to myself； the bottom of the bushel has
dropped out！ SanctaMaria； ora pro nobis！＇
But as I was saying； I was riding on the outside of a stage…coach
from London to Windsor； when all at once a picture familiar to me
from my New England village childhood came upon me like a
reminiscence rather than a revelation。 It was a mighty bewilderment
of slanted masts and spars and ladders and ropes； from the midst of
which a vast tube； looking as if it might be a piece of ordnance such
as the revolted angels battered the walls of Heaven with； according
to Milton； lifted its muzzle defiantly towards the sky。 Why； you
blessed old rattletrap； said I to myself； I know you as well as I
know my father's spectacles and snuff…box！ And that same crazy witch
of a Memory； so divinely wise and foolish； travels thirty…five
hundred miles or so in a single pulse…beat； makes straight for an old
house and an old library and an old corner of it； and whisks out a
volume of an old cyclopaedia； and there is the picture of which this
is the original。 Sir William Herschel's great telescope！ It was
just about as big； as it stood there by the roadside； as it was in
the picture； not much different any way。 Why should it be？ The
pupil of your eye is only a gimlet…hole； not so very much bigger than
the eye of a sail…needle； and a camel has to go through it before you
can see him。 You look into a stereoscope and think you see a
miniature of a building or a mountain； you don't； you 're made a fool
of by your lying intelligence； as you call it； you see the building
and the mountain just as large as with your naked eye looking
straight at the real objects。 Doubt it； do you？ Perhaps you'd like
to doubt it to the music of a couple of gold five…dollar pieces。 If
you would； say the word； and man and money； as Messrs。 Heenan and
Morrissey have it； shall be forthcoming； for I will make you look at
a real landscape with your right eye； and a stereoscopic view of it
with your left eye； both at once； and you can slide one over the
other by a little management and see how exactly the picture overlies
the true landscape。 We won't try it now； because I want to read you
something out of my book。
I have noticed that the Master very rarely fails to come back to
his original proposition； though he； like myself； is fond of
zigzagging in order to reach it。 Men's minds are like the pieces on
a chess…board in their way of moving。 One mind creeps from the
square it is on to the next； straight forward； like the pawns。
Another sticks close to its own line of thought and follows it as far
as it goes； with no heed for others' opinions； as the bishop sweeps
the board in the line of his own color。 And another class of minds
break through everything that lies before them； ride over argument
and opposition； and go to the end of the board； like the castle。 But
there is still another sort of intellect which is very apt to jump
over the thought that stands next and come down in the unexpected way
of the knight。 But that same knight； as the chess manuals will show
you； will contrive to get on to every square of the board in a pretty
series of moves that looks like a pattern of embroidery； and so these
zigzagging minds like the Master's； and I suppose my own is something
like it； will sooner or later get back to the square next the one
they started from。
The Master took down a volume from one of the shelves。 I could not
help noticing that it was a shelf near his hand as he sat； and that
the volume looked as if he had made frequent use of it。 I saw； too；
that he handled it in a loving sort of way； the tenderness he would
have bestowed on a wife and children had to find a channel somewhere；
and what more natural than that he should look fondly on the volume
which held the thoughts that had rolled themselves smooth and round
in his mind like pebbles on a beach； the dreams which； under cover of
the simple artifices such as all writers use； told the little world
of readers his secret hopes and aspirations； the fancies which had
pleased him and which he could not bear to let die without trying to
please others with them？ I have a great sympathy with authors； most
of all with unsuccessful ones。 If one had a dozen lives or so； it
would all be very well； but to have only a single ticket in the great
lottery； and have that drawn a blank； is a rather sad sort of thing。
So I was pleased to see the affectionate kind of pride with which the
Master handled his book； it was a success； in its way； and he looked
on it with a cheerful sense that he had a right to be proud of it。
The Master opened the volume； and； putting on his large round
glasses； began reading； as authors love to read that love their
books。
The only good reason for believing in the stability of the moral
order of things is to be found in the tolerable steadiness of human
averages。 Out of a hundred human beings fifty…one will be found in
the long run on the side of the right； so far as they know it； and
against the wrong。 They will be organizers rather than
disorganizers； helpers and not hinderers in the upward movement of
the race。 This is the main fact we have to depend on。 The right
hand of the great organism is a little stronger than the left； that
is all。