Nothing is more trite than the comparison
of life to a journey or a pilgrimage. If one were compelled to
travel with very disagreeable people, in fifth-rate conveyances,
and through regions uninteresting or repulsive, the journey, or to
abandon the figure, growing old, might well be dreaded. From my
soul I would pity one condemned to such a fate. It would, indeed,
be 'dreary plodding' where one's best hope would be that he might
stumble upon his grave as soon as possible. But I do not believe
in any such dreary fatalism. We are endowed with intelligence
to choose carefully our paths and companions; and I cannot help
thinking that the majority might choose wisely enough to make life
an agreeable journey in the main."
"Look here, Van; I'm no casuist," said Stanton with a shrug; "but
I can detect a flaw in your philosophy at once. Suppose one wanted
good company and could not get it."
"He had better jog on alone, in that case, than take bad company."
"And heavy jogging it might be too," muttered Stanton, with a frown.
Ida's head dropped low and her face became very pale. Her impulsive
cousin in expressing his own tormenting fear, had unconsciously
defined what promised to be her wretched experience.
Pages:
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296