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Abelaide Ontogoya Sectory 15 Page 05
All the best stories in the world are but one story in reality--the story of an escape. It is the only thing which interests us all and at all times--how to escape. The stories of Joseph, of Odysseus, of the prodigal son, of the Pilgrim's Progress, of the "Ugly Duckling," of Sintram, to name only a few out of a great number, they are all stories of escapes. It is the same with all lovestories. "The course of true love never can run smooth," says the old proverb, and love-stories are but tales of a man or a woman's escape from the desert of lovelessness into the citadel of love. Even tragedies like those of OEdipus and Hamlet have the same thought in the background. In the tale of OEdipus, the old blind king in his tattered robe, who had committed in ignorance such nameless crimes, leaves his two daughters and the attendants standing below the old pear-tree and the marble tomb by the sacred fountain; he says the last faint words of love, till the voice of the god comes thrilling upon the air: "OEdipus, why delayest thou?"
Children clapped their hands and ran to meet him; girls greeted him with offerings of flowers; and when he had dismounted, both old and young gathered about him, lisping him a welcome and shaking him by the hand. There was nobody like Dominie Payson, and the love these people bore him, and now gave him so many expressions of, was true and heartfelt. And when he had kissed the children, and exchanged greetings and kind words with their parents, he proceeded into the church, followed by his flock. His sermon was, perhaps, one of the oddest ever listened to, for after returning thanks for the bountiful harvest, and extending on the goodness of God, and advising his flock to stick firmly to their farms and their religion, that being the only true way of getting to Heaven, he turned his guns against Mr. and Mrs. Chapman, though he never once mentioned their names. He urged his flock to keep in mind always how much better off they were, how much more happy they were than those men who came to town with the devil and a number of strange religions in their heads. Such people, he added, always had the devil for a friend; and it was the devil who assisted them to get poor people's money. And with this money they dressed their wives in silks and satins, built big houses, and lived like people who were very proud and never paid their debts, nor did a day's work on the roads. It was all well enough for these men to talk of Heaven and put on pious faces, but Heaven would take no notice of them while they gave themselves up to the temptations of the devil and built steamboats and founded railroads, to kill honest people with, and ruin the country.
Caius Gracchus had taken very little part in public affairs since his brother's death. He had spoken only twice in public: once in favor of the law of Carbo for the re-election of Tribunes, and a second time in opposition to the Alien Act of Junius Pennus, as already mentioned. But the eyes of the people were naturally turned toward him. His abilities were known, and the Senate dreaded his return to Rome. He had been already two years in Sardinia, and they now attempted to retain him there another year by sending fresh troops to the province, and by commanding the Proconsul to remain in the island. But Caius suddenly appeared at Rome, to the surprise of all parties (B.C. 124). His enemies brought him before the Censors to account for his conduct, but he defended himself so ably that not only was no stigma put upon him, but he was considered to have been very badly used. He showed that he had served in the army twelve years, though required to serve only ten; that he had acted as Quaestor two years, though the law demanded only one year's service; and he added that he was the only soldier who took out with him a full purse and brought it back empty.
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