The
English,' he added, 'are very generous with their abstract nouns, and
will sacrifice or give away any quantity of them. It is a national
characteristic, of which they are justly proud.'

'Do the women worship the Dragon?'

'Certainly!' said the Owl. 'They generally profess a great deal of
veneration for St. George too; but they will worship either to get front
seats. I don't know why the English are so fond of front seats; back
ones are just as comfortable, and one can often hear better in them; but
they don't suit dragon-worshippers. They want front seats anywhere--at
concerts, in the church, in art or literature, or even in subscription
lists. The persons who can't afford front seats generally adore those
who can, and those who can, say that the others ought to be grateful to
Providence for putting them in the gallery or letting them into the free
pews. There is a great deal of veneration in the English, and it shows
itself in this way; they reverence the people with reserved tickets.
That is why they are so fond of a noble lord, and that is why they
admire Abraham, and even Lazarus, because he ultimately got such an
excellent place in the next world. They don't care much about Lazarus in
this, because their souls have not such a natural affinity with his when
he is hanging about anyone's doorstep, or loafing round street-corners
with oranges to sell or a barrel-organ. Sometimes they give him the
crumbs that fall from their tables, and sometimes they don't, because
they are afraid he will take advantage of it to steal the spoons. Or
else they take the lofty patriotic ground, and say that their principles
forbid them to countenance vagrancy, and that Heaven helps those who
help themselves. This is very consoling to Lazarus, and it always gives
him pleasure to hear what good moral principles the Philistines--or
Snobs--have got, even if he hasn't got any himself. From what they
frequently say, you would not think that they looked forward to
seeing him in Heaven. It is part of their great-mindedness--a national
characteristic--that the chords of their nature are more deeply stirred
by sympathy with him when he has got into a good berth. I can fancy
how, in Paradise, a British Snob will edge round to some retired
crossing-sweeper, who was converted by the Salvation Army, and went
straight up among the front row of angels and prophets, and will say:

'"Pardon me; but I remember you _so_ well!" And I can fancy that the