His great business was to hate the human race. He was implacable in that

hate. Having made it clear that human life is a dreadful thing; having

observed the superposition of evils, kings on the people, war on kings,

the plague on war, famine on the plague, folly on everything; having

proved a certain measure of chastisement in the mere fact of existence;

having recognized that, death is a deliverance--when they brought him a

sick man he cured him; he had cordials and beverages to prolong the

lives of the old. He put lame cripples on their legs again, and hurled

this sarcasm at them, "There, you are on your paws once more; may you

walk long in this valley of tears!" When he saw a poor man dying of

hunger, he gave him all the pence he had about him, growling out, "Live

on, you wretch! eat! last a long time! It is not I who would shorten

your penal servitude." After which, he would rub his hands and say, "I

do men all the harm I can."

Through the little window at the back, passers-by could read on the

ceiling of the van these words, written within, but visible from

without, inscribed with charcoal, in big letters,--

URSUS, PHILOSOPHER.

The Man Who Laughs