tion for themselves and one unproductive philo-
sopher, the six labourers will themselves have
become philosophers, supported and cherished by
the forces of nature, controlled by the intellect of
perhaps one productive labourer."

" Just so ; the original philosopher being the
cause of this easy production by his ascertain-
ment of the natural forces in question. This
result is merely the protraction of the process
which has been going on from the earliest in-
fancy of the race. If Noah, in his first moon-
light walk upon Ararat, could have seen mirrored
in the watery waste the long procession of gi-
gantic powers which time should lead forth to
pass under the yoke of man, would he not have
decided (in his blindness to the new future of
man) that nothing would be left for man to do?"

M Probably. And in order to exhibit to him
the whole case, he must be carried forward to
man's new point of view."



82 SUNDAY EVENING.

" And so it will be with some second Noah,
whose happier lot it shall be to see knowledge
cover the earth, bearing on its bosom all that is
worthy of the new heavens and new earth ; while
all that is unworthy of them is sunk and lost.
By the agency of his gigantic servants he may
be raised to that pinnacle of the universe whence
he may choose to look forth again, and see what
new services are appointed to man, and who are
the guides and guardians allotted to his higher
state."

" And what will he behold ? But it is

foolish to inquire. One must be there to know."

" To know fully. But though we can but
barely speculate upon what he will see, we may
decidedly pronounce upon what he will not see.
We cannot tell how many galaxies will be per-
ceived to complete the circle of Nature's crown,
nor what echoes of her diapason shall be wafted
to the intent spirit. We cannot tell how near he
may be permitted to approach to behold the evo-
lution of a truth from apparent nothingness, as
we are apt to fancy a seraph watches the crea-
tion of one of yonder worlds — first distinguishing
the dim apparition of an orb emerging from the
vacuum, then seeing it moulded into order, and
animated with warmth, and invested with light,
till myriads of adorers are attracted to behold it
sent forth by the hand of silence on its everlast-
ing way. We cannot tell to what depth man may
then safely plunge, to repose in the sea-caves,
and listen to the new tale that its thunders inter-
pret, and collect around him the tributaries of



SUNDAY EVENING. 83

knowledge that come thronging down the green
vistas of ocean light. We cannot tell what way
will be opened before him to the dim chambers
of the earth, where Patience presides, while her
slow and blind agents work in dumb concert from
age to age, till, the hour being come, the spirit
of the volcano, or the angel of the deluge, arrives
to burst their prison-house. Of all these things
we can yet have but a faint conception ; but of
some things which will not be we can speak with
certainty."

" That when these inanimate powers are found
to be our best servants, the immortal mind of man
will be released from the drudgery which may be
better performed by them. Then, never more
will the precious term of human life be spent in
a single manual operation ; never more will the
elastic limbs of children grow rigid under one
uniform and excessive exercise ; nevermore will
the spirit sit, self-gnawing, in the fetters to which
it has been condemned by the tyranny of igno-
rance, which must have its gratifications. Then
bellows mav breathe in the tainted streams of our
factories, and human lungs be spared, and men's
dwellings be filled with luxuries, and no husband-
man be reduced from his sovereignty of reason
to a similitude with the cattle of his pastures.
But much labour has already been set free by
the employment of the agency of nature ; and
how little has been given to science !"

"It seems as if there must ever be an inter-
mediate state between the discovery of an in-
strument and its application to its final use. I am



84 SUNDAY EVENING.

far from complaining 1 , as you know, of the nature
of human demands being what it has been, as,
from time to time, liberated industry has afforded
a new supply. I am far from complaining that
new graces have grown up within the domains
of the rich, and that new notions of convenience
require a larger satisfaction day by day. Even
when I perceive that a hundred heads and hands
are necessary to the furnishing forth of a gentle-
man's equipage, and that the wardrobe of a lady
must consist of, at least, a hundred and sixty
articles, I am far from wishing that the world
should be set back to a period when men produced
nothing but what was undeniably essential."

" You would rather lead it on to the time when
consumption will not be stimulated as it is at
present ?"

" When it shall be of a somewhat different
kind. A perpetual stimulus seems to me to be
provided for by labour being more and more set
at libertv, since all the fruits of labour constitute
at once the demand and the supply. But the
desires and tastes which have grown up under a
superabundance of labour and a dearth of science
are not those which may be looked for when new
science (which is as much the effect as the cause
of new methods of production) shall have opened
fresh worlds to human tastes. The spread of
luxury, whether it be pronounced a good or an
evil, is, I conceive, of limited duration. It has
served, and it still serves, to employ a part of the
race and amuse another part, while the transition
is being made from one kind of simplicity to



SUNDAY EVENING. 85

another, — from animal simplicity to intellectual
simplicity."

f *' The mechanism of society thus resembles
the mechanism of man's art. What was done as
a simple operation by the human arm, is effected
as a complicated operation by instruments of wood
and steel. But the time surely comes when this
complexity is reduced, and the brute instrument
is brought into a closer and a still closer analogy
with the original human mechanism. The more
advanced the art, the simpler the mechanism."

" Just so. If, in respect of our household
furniture, equal purposes of convenience are found
to be answered by a smaller variety of articles,
the industry which is thus released will be free
to turn to the fine arts, — to the multiplication of
objects which embody truth and set forth beauty,
— objects which cannot be too extensively multi-
plied. If our ladies, at the same time, discover
that equal grace and more convenience are at-
tained by a simpler costume, a more than classi-
cal simplicity will prevail, and the toil of opera-
tives will be transferred to some higher species
of production."

" We should lose no time, then, in making a
list of the present essentials of a lady's wardrobe,
to be preserved among the records of the race.
Isaiah has presented one, which exhibits the
maidens of Judea in their days of wealth. But
I believe they are transcended by the damsels of
Britain."

" I am sure the British ladies transcend the
Jewish in their method of justifying their luxury.

i



86 .SUNDAY EVENING*.

The Jewesses were satisfied that they enjoyed
luxury, and looked no farther. The modern ladies
extol it as a social virtue, — except the few who
denounce the very enjoyment of it as a crime.
How long will the two parties go on disputing
whether luxury be a virtue or a crime V*

" Till they cease to float themselves on the
surface of morals on the support of old maxims
of morality ; till they look with their own eyes
into the evidence of circumstance, and learn to
make an induction for themselves. They will see
that each side of the question has its right and its
wrong ; that there is no harm, but much good
in enjoyment, regarded by itself; and that there
is no good, but much harm in causing toil which
tends to the extinction of enjoyment."

" In other words, that Dr. B.'s pleasure in
his picture gallery is a virtuous pleasure while he
spends upon it only what he can well spare ;â–  and
that Temple's hot-houses are a vicious luxury,
if, as we suspect, he is expending upon them the
capital on which he has taught his labourers to
depend as a subsistence fund."

" Exactly ; and that the milk-maid may vir-
tuously be married in the silk gown which her
bridegroom thinks becoming, provided it is pur-
chased with her surplus earnings ; while an em-
press has no business with a yard of ribbon if she
buys it after having parted with the last shilling
of her revenue at the gaming-table. Silk is beau-
tiful. If this were all, let every body wear silk ;
but if the consequence of procuring silk be more
pain to somebody than the wearing of silk give3



SUNDAY EVENING, B?

pleasure, it becomes a sin to wear silk. A
thriving London tradesman may thus innocently
dress his wife and nine daughters in Genoa vel-
vet, while the spendthrift nobleman may do a
guilty deed in arraying himself in a new fashion
of silk hose."

" Our countrywomen may be expected to de-
fend all luxurious expenditure as a virtue, while
their countrymen, — the greyheaded as well as
youths, — are overheard extolling a war expendi-
ture as a public good. Both proceed on the
notion that benefit resides in mere consumption,
instead of in the reproduction or in the enjoy-
ment which results; that toil is the good itself,
instead of the condition of the good, without which
toil is an evil.''

" If war can be defended as a mode of expen-*
diture by any but gunsmiths and army clothiers,
there is no saying what curse we may not next
find out to be a blessing. Of all kinds of unpro-
ductive consumption, that occasioned by war is
the very worst. Life, and the means of life, are
there extinguished together, and one might as
well try to cause the resurrection of a slain army
on the field of battle, as hope for any return to
the toil of the labourers who equipped them for
the strife. The sweat of the artisan falls as
fruitless as the tears of the widow and orphan.
For every man that dies of his wounds abroad,
there is another that pines in hunger at home.
The hero of to-day may fancy his laurels easily
won ; but he ou^ht to know that his descendants
of the hundredth generation will not have been

i 2



88 SUNDAY EVENING.

able to pay the last farthing of their purchase-
money."

M And this is paid, not so much out of the
luxuries of the rich as the necessaries of the poor.
It is not so much one kind of unproductive con-
sumption being exchanged for another as a pro-
ductive consumption being stinted for the sake
of an unproductive. The rich may contribute
some of their revenue to the support of a war,
but the middling classes give, — some a portion
of their capital, and others the revenue of which
they would otherwise make capital, — so that even
if the debts of a war were not carried forward to a
future age, the evil consequences of an abstrac-
tion of capital are."

" It appears, however, as if unproductive con-
sumption was much lessened at home during a
war. One may see the difference in the very
aspect of the streets in London, and yet more in
the columns of newspapers. Purring declines as
soon as a war breaks out,- — not that puffing is a
sign of any thing but a glut of the article puffed, —
but this decline of puffing signifies rather a cessa-
tion of the production of the community than
such a large demand as needs no stimulating."

" Yes; one may now see in London fire-arms
or scarlet cloth exhibited at the windows of an
establishment where, during the peace, might be
found ' the acme of paper-hanging;' and where
might formerly be had floor-cloth of a marvel-
lous number of yards without seam, whose praises
were blazoned in large letters from the roof to
the ground, ball cartridges are piled, and gun-



SUNDAY EVENING. 8£

powder stands guarded, day and night. Since
gluts work their own cure, and puffing comes of
gluts, puffing is only a k temporary absurdity.
Long may it be before we are afflicted with it
bere ! "

"Afflicted?— Well! looked at by itself, per-
haps it is an affliction, as all violations of truth,
all exhibitions of folly, are ; but one may draw
pleasure too from every thing which is a sign of
the times."

" O, yes ; there is not only the strong present
pleasure of philosophising on states of socictv,
but every indication of what it serves to the
thinker, at the same time, as a prophecy of bet-
ter things that shall be. But, do you not find it
pleasanter to go to worship, as we went this
morning, through green pastures and by still
waters, where human industry made its appeals
to us in eloquent silence, and men's dwellings bore
entire the aspect of sabbath repose, than to pass
through paved streets, with a horizon of brick-
walls, and tokens on every side, not only of
week day labour, but of struggle for subsistence,
and subservience for bread ? The London shop-
keepers do not remove their signs on a Sunday.
If one catches a glimpse here and there of a
spectacled old gentleman reading his Bible in
the first-floor parlour, or meets a train of spruce
children issuing from their father's door at the
sound of the church-bell, one sees, at the same
time, that their business is to push the sale of
floor-cloth without seam, and to boast of the
acme of paper-hanging."

I 3



90 SUNDAY EVENING.

" Tliere may be more immediate pleasure in
the one Sabbath walk than in the other, Arthur,
but they yield, perhaps, equally the aliment of
piety. Whatever indicates the condition of man,
points out, not only the species of duty owing to
man, but the species of homage due to God, —
the character of the petitions appropriate to the
season. All the methods of going to worship
may serve the purpose of preparation for the sanc-
tuary. The nobleman may lean back in his car-
riage to meditate ; the priest may stalk along in
reverie, unconscious of all around him ; the citi-
zen-father may look with pride on the train of
little ones with whom he may spend the leisure
of this day; and the observing philanthropist
may go forth early and see a thousand incidents
by the way, and all may alike enter the church-
door with raised and softened hearts.''

" And all listen with equal faith to the promise
of peace on earth and good -will to men ?"

44 Yes, and the observer not the least, if he
observe for holy purposes."

44 O, father, think of the gin-shop and 'the
news-office that he must pass by the way ! They
are infinitely worse than the visible pufferv.
Think of the thronged green -grocer's shop, where
you may see a widow in her soiled weeds, flushed
with drink, careless of the little ones that clino-
to her gown, hungering as they are for the few
potatoes which are all she can purchase after
having had her morning dram! — Think of the
father cheapening the refuse of the Saturday's
market, and passing on, at last, wondering when



SUNDAY EVENING. 91

his pale family will again taste meat ! Think of
the insolent footmen, impeding the way to the
church-door, while they amuse themselves with
the latest record of licentiousness in the paper of
the clay \*

" I have often seen all this, Arthur, and have

found in it "

" Nothing that necessarily hardens the heart,
I know ; on the contrary, the compassion excited
is so painful that devotion is at times the only
refuse. But as for the congeniality "

•» What is the value of faith, if it cannot assi-
milate all things to itself? And as for Christian
faith, where and amidst what circumstances did
it arise? Was it necessary, in going up to the
temple, to overlook the blind beside the way, and
to stop the ears when the contention of brethren
was heard, and to avoid the proud Pharisee and
the degraded publican ? Was the repose of the
spirit broken when an adultress entered the sacred
precincts ? Were the avenues to the temple
blocked up that the holy might worship in peace i
And when they issued forth, were they sent
home to their closets, forbidden to look to the
right hand or to the left for fear of defilement V*

41 If so, it was by order of the Pharisees. You
are right, father. The holiest did not even find
it necessary to resort to mountain solitudes, or to
the abodes of those who were pure as themselves,
for the support of their faith or the repose of their
devotion. Aliment for piety was found at the
table of the publican, and among the sufferers
beside Bethesda. To the pure every emotion



92 SUNDAY EVENING.

became a refining process, and whatever was not
found congenial was made so. It may certainly
be the same with the wise and the benignant of
every age."

" It is indeed a halting faith which dreads as
common that which God has cleansed and sanc-
tified ; and where is God's own mark to be re-
cognized but in the presence of joy and sorrow,
of which he is the sole originator and distributor?
Whatever bears a relation to joy and sorrow is a
call to devotion ; and no path to the sanctuary is
more sacred than another, while there are traces
of human beings by the way."

" You prefer then the pastures which tell of
our prosperity to the wilds of the prairie ; and I
observed that you dwelt upon the portraits of
familiar faces before you left your study this
morning."

" I did ; and many a time have I dwelt quite
as earnestly on strange faces in which shone no
friendship for me, and no consciousness of the
objects of the day. I read in their human coun-
tenance, — human, whether it be vile or noble, —
the promise, that as all things are for some use,
and as all men contribute while all have need, the
due distribution will in time be made, causes of
contention be done away, and the sources of
social misery be dried up, so that "

" So that we may, through all present dismay
and vicissitude, look forward to ultimate peace on
earth and good-will towards men. Yes, all things
are of use to some, from the stalk of flax that
waves in my field below, to Orion now showing



SUNDAY EVENING. 93

himself as the black cloud draws off, — all for pur-
poses of support to body or mind, — all, whether
appropriated, or left at large because they can-
not be appropriated. Let us hope that each will,
at length, have his share ; and as Providence has
placed no limit to the enjoyment of his gifts but
that of food, we may learn so to understand one
another's desires as mutually to satisfy them ;
so that there may not be too much of one thing
to the injury of some, and too little of another
thing, to the deprivation of more."

•« If we could but calculate the present uses of
anyone gift!" said Dr. Sneyd, smiling; ll but
this is a task for the philosophers of another age,
or another state. I would fain know how many
living beings are reposing or pasturing on your
flax-stalk, and how much service will be rendered
in the course of the processes it has to go through.
I would fain know how many besides ourselves
are drawing from yonder constellation knowledge
and pleasure."

" More than there are stars in the heaven,
besides the myriads that have their home in one
or other of its worlds. What more knowledge
are we to derive to-night?"

And Arthur returned to his seat and his task,
which he had quitted while the sky was clouded.
His father observed, with surprise, how far the
twinkling lights had travelled from their former
place.

" It is later than I thought, Arthur," said he.
" I ought not to have kept you so long from
your rest, busy as your days are."



f)4 SUNDAY EVENING.

Arthur was quite disposed to go on, till sun-
rise, if his father wished to take advantage of his
services. He must meet his men very early in
the dewy morning to mow, and the night was
now so far advanced that it would be as well to
watch it out. Dr. Sneyd was very thankfnl for
his aid. When they had satisfied themselves that
the household were gone to rest, and had re-
plenished the lamp, nothing but brief directions
and the ticking of the watch was again heard in
this upper chamber till the chirping of birds sum-
moned the mower to fetch his scythe.



Chapter V.'
INTRODUCTIONS.



The true cause of Mr. Temple's Sunday head-
ache was spleen at the occurrence of the morning.
That Dr. Sneyd should preach, and in a market-
house, and that soldiers should come some miles
to hear him was, he declared, a perfect scandal
to the settlement. He could not countenance it.
The scandal continued, without the countenance
of the scrupulous gentleman, till the autumn,
when the reason of certain magnificent doings at
Temple Hall began to be apparent. Probably
the only persons who could have told what all
this new building meant were forbidden to do so,
as Mrs. Sneyd could never obtain a word from
her daughter in return for all her conjectures
about what the Lodge was to grow into at last.



•INTRODUCTIONS. 95

the builders having no sooner done one task than
they had to set about another. There was infinite
hurry and bustle about these last additions.
"Workmen were brought from a distance to
relieve those on the spot, that no part of the long
summer davs might be lost. Wall rose above
wall ; beam followed beam from the forest, and
planks issued from the sawpit with marvellous
speed. One would have thought the President
was expected on a visit before winter ; and, in
fact, a rumour was current in the village that
some new capitalists were coming to look about
them, and were to be tempted to abide on some
of the great man's lands. This seemed the more
probable as a substantial house was being built
in the Lodge grounds, besides the new wing (as
it appeared to be) of the mansion itself. Every
body agreed that this house must be intended for
somebody.

The truth burst forth, one day late in the
autumn, that seats instead of partitions were
being put up in the new building, and that the
windows were to be unlike those of the rest of
the house : — in short, that it was to be a chapel.
The servants spread abroad the fact that company
was expected in a few days ; to stay, they
believed, all the winter. — Ay ! till the new house
should be ready, every body supposed. Mean-
time, Mrs. Temple said nothing more to her
family than that friends of Mr. Temple's were
shortly coming to stay at the Lodge. She had
never seen them, and knew but little about
them : — hoped they might prove an acquisition



9G INTRODUCTIONS.

to her father: — depended upon Arthur's civilities,
if he should have it in his power, — and so forth.

It was seldom that Mr. Temple called on his
father-in-law, — especially in the middle of the day,
when less irksome things could be found to do ;
but, one bright noon, he was perceived approach-
ing the house, driving the barouche, in which
were seated two ladies and a gentleman, besides
the heir of Temple Lodge. Dr. Sneyd stepped
out of his low window into the garden, and met
them near the gate, where he was introduced to
the Rev. Ralph Hesselden, pastor of Briery
Creek, and Mrs. Hesselden.

The picturesque clergyman and his showy lady
testified all outward respect to the venerable old
man before them. They forgot for a moment
what they had been told of his politics being
"sad, very sad 5 quite deplorable," — and
remembered only that he was the father of their
hostess. It was not till a full half hour after
that they became duly shocked at a man of his
powers having been given over to the delusions
of human reason, and at his profaneness in having
dared to set up for a guide to others while he was
himself blinded in the darkness of error. There
was so little that told of delusion in the calm
simplicity of the doctor's countenance, and some-
thing so unlike profaneness and presumption in
his mild and serious manners, that it was not
surprising that his guests were so long in disco-
vering the evil that was in him.

Mrs. Sneyd was busy about a task into which
she put no small share of her energies. She had



INTRODUCTIONS. 97

heard that nothing 1 that could be eaten was half
so good as pomegranate preserve, well made.
In concert with Arthur, she had grown prome-
granates with great success, and she was this
morning engaged in preserving them ; using her
utmost skill, in the hope that if it should prove
an impossible thing to make her husband care
for one preserve rather than another while he
was in health, this might be an acceptable re-
freshment in case of sickness ; or that, at least,
Temmy wuuld relish the luxury ; and possibly
Temple himself be soothed by it in one of the
fits of spleen with which he was apt to cloud the