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And now I am going about enlisting recruits for the army of righteousness and right glad I am that so many of you are in that army, and right glad I shall be to talk with any of you who need help." Many of the boys came to say a word to the speaker as they dispersed. Glen stood there, next to Spencer's cart.
I doubted not that they were at the head of the southern gulfs; or of one of them, at all events. Our observations placed us in 34 degrees 08 minutes south of lat., and in long. 139 degrees 41 minutes 15 seconds; we were consequently nearly seventy miles from Spencer's Gulf, in a direct line, and I should have given that as the distance the hills appeared to be from us. They bore as follows:
He had already tackled Spencer's "First Principles," which had literally torn him up by the roots and set him adrift and from that had gone back to Marcus Aurelius, Epictetus, Spinoza and Schopenhauer men who ripped out all his private theories and made him wonder what life really was.
He was sitting in front of his fireplace one night reading, when a thought in some history recalled to his mind a paragraph somewhere in Spencer's astonishing chapters on "the unknowable" in his "Facts and Comments," and he arose to see if he could find it.
"I did not see my husband until Wednesday morning; he had gone to his studio in the attic when I went to my bedroom. He frequently works all night on his inventions." "Were you awakened during the night by any noise?" "No." "Did you see your daughter before retiring?" "No." "Did she attend the meeting of your club?" "No, she is not a member." "When did you first hear of Mr. Spencer's death?"
There are books to which we go for inspiration; to which we turn for joy and pleasure, for strength and courage, for patience and endurance, for purity and peace. They constitute the literature of power. They move us. Herbert Spencer's books belong to the literature of knowledge The "Imitation of Christ" belongs to the literature of power.
It is that of two broken and irregular walls standing apart against a background of roseate sky. Between these walls the figures of a woman and child, turning about to go. The bridge I never see, nor the face of the man who died for my sin; but this I see always: the gaunt ruins of Spencer's Folly and the figure of a woman leading away a little child. That woman lives. I know now who she is.
Herbert Spencer's strong protest against the part assigned by some writers in the mental and industrial evolution of the human race to the influence of great men is certainly fully justified, if the attribute of greatness is to be ascribed only to those whose names figure in current histories.
From former experience in a personal examination of the nature of the country north of the head of Spencer's Gulf, during the months of May and June, 1839, I had learnt that the farther the advance to the north, the more dreary and desolate the appearance of the country became, and the greater was the difficulty, both of finding and of obtaining access to either water or grass.
This law of Spencer's has been discussed at length by the present writer in a previous volume, and we may therefore now proceed to its notable illustration in the case of womanhood and the female sex in general, as made by Geddes and Thomson now more than twenty years ago.
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