So perfect was the illusion, that he could almost fancy he heard the solemn voice of the ordinary warning him that his race was nearly run, and imploring him to prepare for eternity. "It is droll," he said. They had a universe to talk about—two universes. Ann Veronica thought the whole affair rather jolly. He would talk to Spurlock, but from the bench; as a judge, not as a chagrined lover. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. We must take the children—of any race—if we would teach knowledge.
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