Page:Frank Owen - Rare Earth, 1931.djvu/15

 sun, a weird black country of fog and fear and endless mystery. In the space of a year his life had changed completely. From a life of happiness and love, of dreams and friendship he had plunged into utter despair. Scobee had returned blind from the War.

His tragedy perhaps had its counterpart in countless other homes throughout the world. There is no genuine civilization. It is merely a sham, portières behind which countless menaces of treachery and hatred hide. Men have learned to build more elaborate buildings, splendid cathedrals and theatres. They have learned to travel faster, to drag music from the air, to explore the bottoms of oceans and the farthest realms of space. But man has advanced but little in his conscience and in his soul. Men do not think on a higher plane today than they did a hundred years ago. Throughout the world bigger and better churches have been built but there are no bigger and better religions. The simple folk told about in many of the Biblical parables have never been improved upon. While such