(80)
Idem.
There is another pleasure which I have here. Sometimes one or other of our simple devoted old ryots comes to see me,—and their worshipful homage is so unaffected! How much greater than I are they in the beautiful simplicity and sincerity of their reverence. What if I am unworthy of their veneration, their feeling loses nothing of its value.
I regard these grown-up children with the same kind of affection I have for little children—but there is also a difference. They are more infantile still. Little children will grow up later on, but these big children never.
A meek and radiantly simple soul shines through their worn and wrinkled old bodies. Little children are only simple, but they have not the unquestioning, unwavering devotion of these. If there be any undercurrent along which the souls of men may have communication with each other, then my sincere blessing will surely reach and serve them.
All the ryots, of course, are not like these. The best is ever the rarest.
