THE VOICE OF NATURE
coming. I noted the health and cleanliness of these young heirs of Utopia as they passed below.
The pervading quality of the whole scene was a sane order, the deliberate solution of problems, a progressive intention steadily achieving itself; and the aspect that particularly occupied me was the incongruity of this with our blond-haired friend.
On the one hand here was a state of affairs that implied a power of will, an organising and controlling force, the co-operation of a great number of vigorous people to establish and sustain its progress; and on the other this creature of pose and vanity, with his restless wit, his perpetual giggle at his own cleverness, his manifest incapacity for comprehensive co-operation.
Now, had I come upon a hopeless incompatibility? Was this the reductio ad absurdum of my vision, and must it even as I sat there fade, dissolve, and vanish before my eyes?
There was no denying our blond friend. If this Utopia is indeed to parallel our earth, man for man—and I see no other reasonable choice to that—there must be this sort of person and kindred sorts of persons in great abundance. The desire and gift to see life whole is not the lot of the great majority of men, the service of truth is the privilege of the elect, and these clever fools who choke the avenues of the world of thought, who stick at no inconsistency, who oppose, obstruct, confuse, will find only the freer scope amidst Utopian freedoms.
They argued on, these two, as I worried my brains with riddles. It was like a fight between a cock spar-
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