I even wished to
possess the power of some implacable god or demon, that I might shatter
the sacred houses of this later race, and destroy them everlastingly,
and repeople the peaceful world with struggling, starving millions, as
in the past, so that the beautiful flower of love which had withered in
men's hearts might blossom again.
While these insane thoughts were passing through my brain I had risen
from my seat, and stood leaning against the edge of the alcove, with
that curious richly-colored bottle close to my eyes. There were letters
on it, noticed now for the first time--minute, hair-like lines beneath
the strange-contrasted processionists depicted on the band--and even in
my excited condition I was a little startled when these letters, forming
the end of a sentence, shaped themselves into the words--_and for the
old life there shall be a new life_.
Turning the bottle round I read the whole sentence. _When time and
disease oppress, and the sun grows cold in heaven, and there is no
longer any joy on the earth, and the fire of love grows cold in the
heart, drink of me, and for the old life there shall be a new life.
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