Whose feet I ask? The feet of our direst foe, whom to
worship, as he desireth, means serfdom worse than ours. Is there one
of you who will surrender his native dignity in such a fashion?"
Millions of voices rendered the air hideous with their cries, so
accurately did Blackana reproduce it all.
"I knew your sentiments," continued he, triumph ringing in his tones.
"What can we do but stand unitedly on our rustic frontier, and push
the conquest on to farther realms. Then all Heaven will learn that we
are made of grit too fine and true to lie beneath the feet of any foe."
As Blackana continued, I was struck with shuddering terror at his awful
gestures; but conscious that no harm could befall me, I continued
listening to his flaming oratory.
"We must arise and seize our opportunities. Go forth, under cover of
night, and sow the seed of our own growing; this will flourish in the
very soil that Christ would bring to highest cultivation. The germs
of our literature, rooted in human soil and growing secretly beneath
the surface, shall spread throughout the world and come to fruitage
in the light of every clime.
"We must build schools of literature, inspire the authors of the world
with our fine creed, and thereby spread our doctrines to the myriad
readers of every land and tongue.
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