Chapter 5

in the centre, strewn with books and pamphlets._ DR. MARGRAVE _seated by the table, cutting the leaves of a pamphlet_.

DR. MARGRAVE. Thus, ever on and on must be our course: Even as the ocean drinks a thousand streams, And never cries "enough!"--the human mind Would drain all sources of intelligence, Yet ne'er is filled, and never satisfied. And theory succeeds to theory As regular as tides that ebb and flow. This treatise will disprove the last I read. Shade of Hippocrates! what creeds are formed, What antics practiced with your "Healing Art!" I will not sport with fate, nor tamper thus With man's credulity and nature's strength. No: I will gently coincide with nature, And give her time and scope to work the cure-- Strengthening the patient's heart with trust in God, And teaching him that genuine health depends On true obedience to the natural laws Ordained for man--not on the doctor's skill.

_Enter_ DENNIS, _with a card to the Doctor_.

DENNIS. The gentleman awaits you in the hall.

DR. MARGRAVE (_reading the card_). "Reverend Paul Godfrey"--my old college chum! Is't possible! (_To_ DENNIS.) Bring him up, instantly. [_Exit_ DENNIS.

I have not seen him since our hands were clasped In Harvard Hall:--I wonder if he'll know me. (_Enter_ REV. PAUL GODFREY.) Ah! welcome! welcome!--You are Godfrey still. The changes of--how many years have passed Since last we parted?

GODFREY. Thirty years;--and you--

MARGRAVE. Are altered, you would say. I know it well. My hair, that then was black as midnight cloud, Is now as white as moonbeams on the snow. The image that my mirror gives me back I scarce believe my own--so pale and worn. Would you have known me had we met by chance?

GODFREY. Ay, ay--among a million--if you spoke. There's the old touch of kindness in your voice; And then your eye from its dark thatch looks out Like beacon-light, soul-kindled, as of yore. Warm hearts will hold their own, tho' frosts of age May lay their blighting fingers on our hair.

MARGRAVE. Thank Heaven 'tis so!--But you are little changed, Save the maturing touch that manhood brings When health and strength have won the victory, And laid their trophies on the shrine of mind!

GODFREY. My lot has been amid the wild, fresh scenes Of Nature's wide domain; where all is free. Life seems t' inhale the vigorous breath required To struggle with the elements around, And thus keeps Time at bay. Like good old Boone, The patriarch hunter, in the forest wilds I've found that God supplied, and healed, and blessed. Men live too fast in cities.

MARGRAVE. Not if they Would give their energies a noble aim. The opportunities to compass good, And good effected--these are dates that give The sum of human life.

GODFREY. True; most true. It is in cities where men congregate, And good and evil strive for mastery, The sternest strength of soul must needs be tested. But all that stirs the passions makes us old. 'Twould wear me out--this round of ceaseless toil, In the same range of artificial life; And I must greet you with a traveler's haste, And back to my free forest home again.

MARGRAVE. 'Tis well that every part and scene in life Can find its actors ready for the stage, And well that our wide land has scope for all. And yet to feel that those who raised together Their hope-swelled canvass when life's voyage began-- Like ships, storm-parted, on the world's rough sea-- Can sail no more in sweet companionship! 'Tis a sad thought! Of all our college friends, But one, beside myself, is here to greet you.

GODFREY. Who is he?--There is one would glad my heart. When college scenes arise, yourself and Bolton--

MARGRAVE. 'Tis he I mean.

GODFREY. What, Bolton? Harry Bolton? I heard some fellow-travelers in the cars Talking of one Judge Bolton, as the man Who filled his orb of duty like the sun-- Shining on all, and drawing all t' obey. Surely this cannot be our Harry Bolton-- The frank, warm-hearted, but most wayward youth. Whose mind was like a comet--now all light. Anon, away where reason could not follow. He surely has not reached this grave estate Of Judge!

MARGRAVE. The same, the same--our Harry Bolton. And better still, a man whom all men honor.

GODFREY. I must see him. Let us go at once. I feel A joy like that of Joseph's when he found That his young brother Benjamin had come. Though now the order is reversed, for here The youngest claims the honors.

MARGRAVE. No, not so. Your order should be first in estimation, And always is, where men are trained for heaven And mine would be the second, were we wise, And followed Nature as you follow God. And Law is the third station on the mount, When men are placed as lights above life's path And Bolton is, in truth, a light and guide.

GODFREY. Where shall I find him?

MARGRAVE. In his place, to-day, The seat of Justice. We'll go--it is not far The cause is one of special interest: I'll give its history as we pass along. Wilt go?

GODFREY. Ay, surely, surely. I am ready now. It is the very place and time to see him. [_Exeunt._

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