THE EDGE OF NIGHT 77 



preachers think for me. The editorial office is 

 such a quiet thought-inducing place ; as quiet 

 as a boiler factory ; and the thinkers there, from 

 editor-in-chief to the printer's devil, are so thought- 

 ful for the size of the circulation ! And the college 

 professors, they have the time and the cloistered 

 quiet needed. But they have pitiful salaries, and 

 enormous needs, and their social status to worry 

 over, and themes to correct, and a fragmentary 

 year to contend with, and Europe to see every 

 summer, and — Is it right to ask them, with all 

 this, to think ? We will ask the preachers instead. 

 They are set apart among the divine and eternal 

 things; they are dedicated to thought; they have 

 covenanted with their creeds to think ; it is their 

 business to study, but, " to study to be careful and 

 harmless." 



It may be, after all, that my politics and ethics 

 and religion need disturbing, as the soil about my 

 fruit trees needs it. Is it the tree? or is it the soil 

 that I am trying to grow ? Is it I, or my politics, 

 my ethics, my religion ? I will go over to the toad, 

 no matter the cost. I will sit at his feet, where 

 time is nothing, and the worry of work even less. 

 He has all time and no task ; he is not obliged to 



