We feel Him, we feel Him, we feel--that is all! And the poor, half-swamped devil mutters: "But if the day should come when you do not feel ?" And we laugh and cry him down.
"It will never come--never," and the poor devil slinks to sleep again, with his tail between his legs.

Fierce assertion many times repeated is hard to stand against; only time separates the truth from the lie.

So we dream on.
One day we go with our father to town, to church.

The townspeople rustle in their silks, and the men in their sleek cloth, and settle themselves in their pews, and the light shines in through the windows on the artificial flowers in the women's bonnets.

We have the same miserable feeling that we have in a shop where all the clerks are very smart.