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Updated: May 5, 2025
"I require no such proofs," said the virtuous person. "Then you have no reasonable faith," said the priest. "Great is the right, and shall prevail!" cried the virtuous person. "There is loyalty in my soul; be sure, there is loyalty in the mind of Odin." "These are but playings upon words," returned the priest. "A sackful of such trash is nothing to the peacock."
Archbishop Trench, in his valuable volume on the "Study of Words," opens a paragraph with this sentence: "Let us now proceed to contemplate some of the attestations for God's truth, and some of the playings into the hands of the devil's falsehood, which may be found to lurk in words."
Let us now proceed to contemplate some of the attestations to God's truth, and then some of the playings into the hands of the devil's falsehood, which lurk in words. And first, the attestations to God's truth, the fallings in of our words with his unchangeable Word; for these, as the true uses of the word, while the other are only its abuses, have a prior claim to be considered.
There was surprise in her voice and interest in her expression. Silently he cursed himself for having told her. He might have known her pride did not deal in such petty triumphs. Even then he had not guessed at the truth that never having had to worry about men she had seldom used the wary subterfuges, the playings out and haulings in, that were the stock in trade of her sisterhood.
The older brother Theodore, or Tad, was living at this time with another uncle, a prosperous Iowa farmer, also much loved by both of the boys. He lived near enough to permit frequent playings together of the two, and on another farm, with Grandmother Minthorn, was still the baby sister Mary, who was, however, too young to be much of a playmate for the brothers.
"I require no such proofs," said the virtuous person. "Then you have no reasonable faith," said the priest. "Great is the right, and shall prevail!" cried the virtuous person. "There is loyalty in my soul; be sure, there is loyalty in the mind of Odin." "These are but playings upon words," returned the priest. "A sackful of such trash is nothing to the peacock."
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