ciers?"

"Yes. Bohm is president of an insurance company, and Charley's a
director, and reorganizes railroads."

"Well, if other people share your pleasant opinion of them, how do they
get elected?"

"Other people share their pleasant spoils--senators, vestrymen--you
can't be sure who you're sitting next to at dinner any more. Come live
North. You'll find the only safe way is never to know anybody worth more
than five millions--if you wish to keep the criminal classes off your
visiting list."

This made him merry. "Put 'em in jail, then!"

"Ah, the jail!" I returned. "It's the great American joke. It reverses
the rule of our smart society. Only those who have no incomes are
admitted."

"But what do you have laws and lawyers for?"

"To keep the rich out of jail. It's called 'professional etiquette.'"

"Your picture flatters!"

"You flatter me; it's only a photograph. Come North and see."

"One might think, from your account, the American had rather be bad than
good."

"O dear, no! The American had much rather be good than bad!"

"Your admission amazes me!"

"But also the American had rather be rich than good. And he is having
his wish. And money's golden hand is tightening on the throat of liberty
while the labor union stabs liberty in the back--for trusts and unions
are both trying to kill liberty. And the soul of Uncle Sam has turned
into a dollar-inside his great, big, strong, triumphant flesh; so that
even his new religion, his own special invention, his last offering to
the creeds of the world, his gatherer of converted hordes, his Christian
Science, is based upon physical benefit."

John touched the horses. "You're particularly cheerful to-day!"

"No. I merely summarize what I'm seeing."

"Well, a moral awakening will come," he declared.

"Inevitably. To-morrow, perhaps. The flesh has had a good, long,
prosperous day, and the hour of the spirit must be near striking. And
the moral awakening will be followed by a moral slumber, since, in
the uncomprehended scheme of things, slumber seems necessary; and you
needn't pull so long a face, Mr. Mayrant, because the slumber will be
followed by another moral awakening. The alcoholic society girl
you don't like will very probably give birth to a water-drinking
daughter--who in her turn may produce a bibulous progeny: how often must
I tell you that nothing is final?"

John Mayrant gave the horses a somewhat vicious lash after these last
words of mine;