slave, it is worse, if anything, for the master. It
takes no spectacles to see that a great class of vicious, improvident,
degraded people, among us, are an evil to us, as well as to themselves.
The capitalist and aristocrat of England cannot feel that as we do,
because they do not mingle with the class they degrade as we do. They
are in our homes; they are the associates of our children, and they form
their minds faster than we can; for they are a race that children always
will cling to and assimilate with. If Eva, now, was not more angel than
ordinary, she would be ruined. We might as well allow the small-pox to
run among them, and think our children would not take it, as to let them
be uninstructed and vicious, and think our children will not be affected
by that. Yet our laws positively and utterly forbid any efficient
general educational system, and they do it wisely, too; for, just begin
and thoroughly educate one generation, and the whole thing would be
blown sky high. If we did not give them liberty, they would take it."

"And what do you think will be the end of this?" said Miss Ophelia.

"I don't know. One thing is certain,--that there is a mustering among
the masses, the world over; and there is a _dies irae_ coming on, sooner
or later. The same thing is working in Europe, in England, and in this
country. My mother used to tell me of a millennium that was coming,
when Christ should reign, and all men should be free and happy. And she
taught me, when I was a boy, to pray, 'thy kingdom come.' Sometimes I
think all this sighing, and groaning, and stirring among the dry bones
foretells what she used to tell me was coming. But who may abide the day
of His appearing?"

"Augustine, sometimes I think you are not far from the kingdom," said
Miss Ophelia, laying down her knitting, and looking anxiously at her
cousin.

"Thank you for your good opinion, but it's up and down with me,--up to
heaven's gate in theory, down in earth's dust in practice. But there's
the teabell,--do let's go,--and don't say, now, I haven't had one
downright serious talk, for once in my life."

At table, Marie alluded to the incident of Prue. "I suppose you'll
think, cousin," she said, "that we are all barbarians."

"I think that's a barbarous thing," said Miss Ophelia, "but I don't
think you are all barbarians."

"Well, now," said Marie, "I know it's impossible to get along with some
of these creatures. They are so bad they ought not to l