Him I saluted with ceremonious politeness, on
account of his years and the venerable dignity of his beard. Thereupon
he approached near, and remarking affably that the afternoon was good
(though, to use no subtle evasion, it was very evil), he congenially
sat by my side and entered into familiar discourse.
"They say that in your part of the world we old grandfathers are
worshipped," he said, after recounting to my ears all the most
intimate details of his existence from his youth upwards; "now, might
that be right?"
"Truly," I replied. "It is the unchanging foundation of our system of
morality."
"Ay, ay," he admitted pleasantly. "We are a long way behind them
foreigners in everything. At the rate we're going there won't be any
trade nor work nor religion left in this country in another twenty
years. I often wish I had gone abroad when I was younger. And if I had
chanced upon your parts I should be worshipped, eh?" and at the
agreeable thought the aged man laughed in his throat with simple
humour.
"Assuredly," I replied; "--after you were dead."
"Eh?" exclaimed the venerable person, checking the fountain of his
mirth abruptly at the word. "Dead! not before? Doesn't--doesn't that
seem a bit of a waste?"
"Such has been the observance from the time of unrecorded antiquity,"
I replied. "'Obey parents, respect the old, loyally uphold the
sovereign, and worship ancestors.'"
"Well, well," remarked the one beside me, "obedience and
respect--that's something nowadays.
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