Nobody

"Must one? That is the very question."

"What can you do else, as long as you haven't your bread to get?"

"I believe the people who have their bread to get have the best ofit. But there must be some use in the world, I suppose, for those whoare under no such necessity. Did you ever hear that Miss – Lothrop'sfamily were strictly religious?"

"No – yes, I have," said Tom. "I know she is."

"That would not have suited you."

"Yes, it would. Anything she did would have suited me. I have a greatrespect for religion, Philip."

"What do you mean by religion?"

"I don't know – what everybody means by it. It is the care of thespiritual part of our nature, I suppose."

"And how does that care work?"

"I don't know," said Tom. "It works altar-cloths; and it seems to meanchurch-going, and choral music, and teaching ragged schools; and thatsort of thing. I don't understand it; but I should never interfere withit. It seems to suit the women particularly."

Again there fell a pause.

"Where have you been, Dillwyn? and what brought you here again?" Tombegan now.

"I came to pass the time," the other said musingly.

"Ah! And where have you passed it?"

"Along the shores of the Adriatic, part of the time. At Abazzia, and

Sebenico, and the islands."

"What's in all that? I never heard of Abazzia."

"The world is a large place," said Philip absently.

"But what is Abazzia?"

"A little paradise of a place, so sheltered that it is like a nest ofall lovely things. Really; it has its own climate, through certainfavouring circumstances; and it is a hidden little nook of delight."

"Ah! – What took you to the shores of the Adriatic, anyhow?"

"Full of interest," said Philip.

"Pray, of what kind?"

"Every kind. Historical, industrial, mechanical, natural, and artistic.But I grant you, Tom, that was not why I went there. I went there toget out of the ruts of travel and break new ground. Like you, being alittle tired of going round in a circle for ever. And it occurs to methat man must have been made for somewhat else than such a purposelesscircle. No other creature is a burden to himself."

"Because no other creature thinks," said Tom.

"The power of thought can surely be no final disadvantage."

"I don't see what it amounts to," Tom returned. "A man is happy enough,I suppose, as long as he is busy thinking out some newthing – inventing, creating, discovering, or working out hisdiscoveries; but as soon as he has brought his invention to perfectionand set it going, he is tired of it, and drives after something else."

"You are coming to Solomon's judgment," said the other, leaning backupon the cushions and clasping his hands above his head, – "what thepreacher says – 'Vanity of vanities, all is vanity.'"

"Well, so are you," said Tom.

"It makes me ashamed."

"Of what?"

"Myself."

"Why?"

"That I should have lived to be thirty-two years old, and never havedone anything, or found any way to be of any good in the world! Thereisn't a butterfly of less use than I!"

"You weren't made to be of use," said Tom.

"Upon my word, my dear fellow, you have said the most disparagingthing, I hope, that ever was said of me! You cannot better thatstatement, if you think an hour! You mean it of me as a human being, Itrust? not as an individual? In the one case it would be indeedmelancholy, but in the other it would be humiliating. You take therace, not the personal view. The practical view is, that what is of nouse had better not be in existence. Look here – here we are at Murano; Ihad not noticed it. Shall we land, and see things by moonlight? or goback to Venice?"

"Back, and have dinner," said Tom.

"By way of prolonging this existence, which to you is burdensome and tome is unsatisfactory. Where is the logic of that?"

But they went back, and had a very good dinner too.

CHAPTER XXIX

AN OX CART

It happened not far from this same time in the end of August, when Mr.Dillwyn and Tom Caruthers came together on the Piazzetta of St. Mark, that another meeting took place in the far-away regions of Shampuashuh.A train going to Boston was stopped by a broken bridge ahead, and itspassengers discharged in one of the small towns along the coast, towait until the means of getting over the little river could bearranged. People on a railway journey commonly do not like to wait; itwas different no doubt in the days of stage-coaches, when patience hadsome exercise frequently; now, we are spoiled, and you may notice thatten minutes' delay is often more than can be endured with complacency.Our fathers and mothers had hours to wait, and took it as a matter ofcourse.

Among the impatient passengers thrown out at Independence were twospecially impatient.

"What on earth shall we do with ourselves?" said the lady.

"Pity the break-down had not occurred a little further on," said thegentleman. "You might have visited your friend – or Tom's friend – MissLothrop. We are just a few miles from Shampuashuh."

"Shampuashuh! – Miss Lothrop! – Was that where she lived? How far,

George?"

"A few miles – half a dozen, perhaps."

"O George, let us get horses and drive there!"

"But then you may not catch the train this evening again."