“‘My friends,’ said Hollins, (and his hobby, as you may remember, Ned, was the organization of Society, rather than those reforms which apply directly to the Individual,)—­’my friends, I think we are sufficiently advanced in progressive ideas to establish our little Arcadian community upon what I consider the true basis:  not Law, nor Custom, but the uncorrupted impulses of our nature.  What Abel said in regard to dietetic reform is true; but that alone will not regenerate the race.  We must rise superior to those conventional ideas of Duty whereby Life is warped and crippled.  Life must not be a prison, where each one must come and go, work, eat, and sleep, as the jailer commands.  Labor must not be a necessity, but a spontaneous joy.  ’T is true, but little labor is required of us here:  let us, therefore, have no set tasks, no fixed rules, but each one work, rest, eat, sleep, talk or be silent, as his own nature prompts.’

“Perkins, sitting on the steps, gave a suppressed chuckle, which I think no one heard but myself.  I was vexed with his levity, but, nevertheless, gave him a warning nudge with my toe, in payment for the surreptitious salt.

“‘That’s just the notion I had, when I first talked of our coming here,’ said Shelldrake.  ’Here we’re alone and unhindered; and if the plan shouldn’t happen to work well, (I don’t see why it shouldn’t, though,) no harm will be done.  I’ve had a deal of hard work in my life, and I’ve been badgered and bullied so much by your strait-laced professors, that I’m glad to get away from the world for a spell, and talk and do rationally, without being laughed at.’

“‘Yes,’ answered Hollins, ’and if we succeed, as I feel we shall, for I think I know the hearts of all of us here, this may be the commencement of a new eepoch for the world.  We may become the turning-point between two dispensations:  behind us everything false and unnatural,—­before us everything true, beautiful, and good.’

“‘Ah,’ sighed Miss Ringtop, ’it reminds me of Gamaliel J. Gawthrop’s beautiful lines:—­

  “Unrobed man is lying hoary
   In the distance, gray and dead;
  There no wreaths of godless glory
   To his mist-like tresses wed,
  And the foot-fall of the Ages
   Reigns supreme, with noiseless tread."’

“‘I am willing to try the experiment,’ said I, on being appealed to by Hollins; ’but don’t you think we had better observe some kind of order, even in yielding everything to impulse?  Shouldn’t there be, at least, a platform, as the politicians call it,—­an agreement by which we shall all be bound, and which we can afterwards exhibit as the basis of our success?’

“He meditated a few moments, and then answered,—­

“’I think not.  It resembles too much the thing we are trying to overthrow.  Can you bind a man’s belief by making him sign certain articles of Faith?  No:  his thought will be free, in spite of it; and I would have Action—­Life—­as free as Thought.  Our platform—­to adopt your image—­has but one plank:  Truth.  Let each only be true to himself:  be himself, act himself, or herself, with the uttermost candor.  We can all agree upon that.’