Random Harvest

by James Hilton

feel I’m more impartial about-take the League of Nations. It’s sickening now of that deadliest of modern diseases-popular approval without private faith; it will die because it demanded a crusade and we gave it a press campaign, because it’s worth our passion and we deluge it with votes of confidence and acts of indifference. It might have sprung alive out of the soul of a saint; it could only be stillborn out of a clause in a treaty. It should have been preached until we were all aflame with it; instead of which it’s been flattered and fawned upon till most of us are already bored with it. Sometimes I’ve even thought we should have given it ritual-a gesture to be made whenever the name’s mentioned, like the sign of the Cross for the faithful, or-for the faithless-blowing out the match after the second man’s cigarette.” As if reminded by that he pulled out his pipe and began to fill it as he continued: “This is a good moment to say how much I hope you’ll stay with me here-both of you. That is, if you’re happy.”

Hopeless of good works w.o. faith