November midnight
Add to this that -- thought of all most dismayful ! -- he had himself to convince first , the worst dragon of all to kill , for bare honesty 's sake , in his own field ; while , all the time he was arming and fighting -- like the waves of the flowing tide in a sou ' - wester , Sunday came in upon Sunday , roaring on his flat , defenceless shore , Sunday behind Sunday rose towering , in awful perspective , away to the verge of an infinite horizon -- Sunday after Sunday of dishonesty and sham -- yes , hypocrisy , far worse than any idolatry . To begin now , and in such circumstances , to study the evidences of Christianity , were about as reasonable as to send a man , whose children were crying for their dinner , off to China to make his fortune ! He laughed the idea to scorn , discovered that a gravestone in a November midnight was a cold chair for study , rose , stretched himself disconsolately , almost despairingly , looked long at the persistent solidity of the dark church and the waving line of its age-slackened ridge , which , like a mountain-range , shot up suddenly in the tower and ceased -- then turning away left the houses of the dead crowded all about the house of the resurrection . At the farther gate he turned yet again , and gazed another moment on the tower . Towards the sky it towered , and led his gaze upward . There still soared , yet rested , the same quiet night with its delicate heaps of transparent blue , its cool-glowing moon , its steely stars , and its something he did not understand .