I said, "Senor,
do not put too much splendor in your journal for the King
and Queen and the Spanish merchants and the Church and
all the chivalry that the ended war releases! Or, if you
prophesy, mark it prophecy. It is a great trouble in the
world that men do not know when one day is talked of or
when is meant great ranges of days! Otherwise you will
have all thirsty Spain sailing for Ophir and Golden Chersonesus,
wealth immediate, gilding Midas where he stands!
If they find disappointment they will not think of the future;
they will smite you!"
I knew that he was writing in that book too ardently,
and that he was even now composing letters to great persons
to be dispatched from what Spanish port he should
first enter, coming back east from west, over Ocean-Sea,
from Asia!
But he had long, long followed his own advice, stood by
his own course. The doing so had so served him that it
was natural he should have confidence. Now he said only,
"I do the best I can! I have little sea room. One Scylla
and Charybdis? Nay, a whole brood of them!"
I could agree to that. I saw it coming up the ways that
they would give him less and less sea room. He went on,
"Merchandise has to be made attractive! The cook dresses
the dish, the girl puts flowers in her hair. . . . Yet, in the
end the wares are mighty beyond description! The dish is
for Pope and King--the girl is a bride for a paladin!"
Again he was right afar and over the great span.
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