" "A young fellow who thinks he's in love, when he has only been reading too much. That is why they are permitted to rush in where angels fear to tread—and survive their daring! This supreme protection, this unwritten warranty to disregard all laws, occult or apparent, divine or earthly, may be attributed to the fact that none but young fools dream gloriously. Ah! I have it," he added, after a moment's deliberation; "he's there, I'll be sworn. The idiots are marching through the streets in processions from town to town, whipping their own backs until they are covered in blood, spreading the bloody Pestilence wherever they go! The dead pile in the streets like timber. Of course Ruth was not aware that in this same volume there were lyrics known the world over. It isn’t illusions—for us.
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