as quickly as possible to enjoyment, it is a mere
accident that he does not become a criminal."

But I tell Tarbox that these foreigners never understand the working of
our institutions, nor the genius of our people. As to the dignity of
labor, I have written a good deal on that text, particularly just before
elections. The phrase sounds well in leading articles and on the stump,
and may carry some comfort to a hard-working man. But I doubt if he
believes it in his heart. I certainly do not. It is not true. There is
no dignity in labor. Honesty, wisdom, manliness, there may be in labor,
but not dignity. Dignity is in repose; the proverb is as old as Julius
Caesar. I might perhaps serve out some cut-and-dried bits of morality
that have been prescribed as specifics for such complaints since the
days of the Seven Wise Men. We keep them "set up" and ready for use. The
only fault of these excellent old remedies is, that they never cure
chronic cases of inefficiency, whether it be constitutional or
contracted. They are good for nothing unless as a mild tonic for people
who could do well enough without them. Now the cases we have to deal
with are generally constitutional. When a young man writes to a stranger
to ask upon what career in life he shall enter, he sends a diagnosis of
his character in his letter. You know at once to what subdivision of the
species he belongs. The hunting British squire recognizes only three
orders of animals,--game, vermin, and stock. The human race may be
divided in the same way. Game men take care of themselves; the vermin
make others take care of them; and the stock, useful, harmless, and
insignificant, except as an aggregate, furnish the first class with
tools and the second with victims, and hitherto have done most of the
drudgery of the world. Our correspondents belong to a sluggish but
ambitious variety of the stock, that is seeking for some respectable or
semi-respectable method of avoiding the primeval labor curse. Their own
ingenuity failing them, they apply for the use of ours. The robust men,
who have "the wrestling thews that throw the world," know how to get
what they want, and ask no one to teach them. Indeed, to ask advice at
any time is an indication of weakness. We feel kindly to those who
consult us. It is a compliment that we were chosen, and not another; but
I do not think that we respect them the more for it.

It is evident that the heroic remedies recommended by my colleague