“A Happy Life! a Happy Life!” cried Babbalanja, in an ecstasy.  “My lord, I am lost in the dream of it, as here recorded.  Marvelous book! its goodness transports me.  Let me read:—­’I would bear the same mind, whether I be rich or poor, whether I get or lose in the world.  I will reckon benefits well placed as the fairest part of my possession, not valuing them by number or weight, but by the profit and esteem of the receiver; accounting myself never the poorer for any thing I give.  What I do shall be done for conscience, not ostentation.  I will eat and drink, not to gratify my palate, but to satisfy nature.  I will be cheerful to my friends, mild and placable to my enemies.  I will prevent an honest request, if I can foresee it; and I will grant it, without asking.  I will look upon the whole world as my country; and upon Oro, both as the witness and the judge of my words and my deeds.  I will live and die with this testimony:  that I loved a good conscience; that I never invaded another man’s liberty; and that I preserved my own.  I will govern my life and my thoughts, as if the whole world were to see the one, and to read the other; for what does it signify, to make any thing a secret to my neighbor, when to Oro all our privacies are open.’”

“Very fine,” said Media.

“The very spirit of the first followers of Alma, as recorded in the legends,” said Mohi.

“Inimitable,” said Yoomy.

Said Babbalanja, “Listen again:—­’Righteousness is sociable and gentle; free, steady, and fearless; full of inexhaustible delights.’  And here again, and here, and here:—­The true felicity of life is to understand our duty to Oro.’—­’True joy is a serene and sober motion.’  And here, and here,—­my lord, ’tis hard quoting from this book;—­but listen—­’A peaceful conscience, honest thoughts, and righteous actions are blessings without end, satiety, or measure.  The poor man wants many things; the covetous man, all.  It is not enough to know Oro, unless we obey him.’”

“Alma all over,” cried Mohi; “sure, you read from his sayings?”

“I read but odd sentences from one, who though he lived ages ago, never saw, scarcely heard of Alma.  And mark me, my lord, this time I improvise nothing.  What I have recited, Is here.  Mohi, this book is more marvelous than the prophecies.  My lord, that a mere man, and a heathen, in that most heathenish time, should give utterance to such heavenly wisdom, seems more wonderful than that an in-spired prophet should reveal it.  And is it not more divine in this philosopher, to love righteousness for its own sake, and in view of annihilation, than for pious sages to extol it as the means of everlasting felicity?”

“Alas,” sighed Yoomy, “and does he not promise us any good thing, when we are dead?”

“He speaks not by authority.  He but woos us to goodness and happiness here.”

“Then, Babbalanja,” said Media, “keep your treasure to yourself.  Without authority, and a full right hand, Righteousness better be silent.  Mardi’s religion must seem to come direct from Oro, and the mass of you mortals endeavor it not, except for a consideration, present or to come.”