Whew! What do you think of that for an impromptu song, Wilks?"
"I think that you are turning your back upon your own principle that
there is no best, or no one best, and that everything is best in its
place."
"Barring old Nick and the mosquitoes, Wilks, come now?"
"Well, an exception may be made in their favour, but what says the
poet:--
O yet we trust that somehow good
Will be the final goal of ill.
Come, along, though, for we have much to see before sunset."
"You don't think that good is going to come out of the devil and
mosquitoes?"
"Yes I do; not to themselves, perhaps, but to humanity."
"I saw a book once with the title "Why Doesn't God Kill the Devil?" and
sympathized with it. Why doesn't He?"
"Because man wants the devil. As soon as the world ceases to want him,
so soon is his occupation gone."
"Wilks, my dear, that's an awful responsibility lying on us men, and I
fear what you say is too true. So here's for the shale works."
The pedestrians ceased their theological discussion and went towards the
deserted buildings, where, in former days, a bad smelling oil had been
distilled from the slaty-looking black stones, which lay about in large
numbers.
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