of the problem! Manchester
Insurrections, French Revolutions, and thousandfold phenomena
great and small, announce loudly that you must bring it forward a
little again. Never till now, in the history of an Earth which
to this hour nowhere refuses to grow corn if you will plough it,
to yield shirts if you will spin and weave in it, did the mere
manual two-handed worker (however it might fare with other
workers) cry in vain for such "wages" as _he_ means by "fair
wages," namely food and warmth! The Godlike could not and cannot
be paid; but the Earthly always could. Gurth, a mere swineherd,
born thrall of Cedric the Saxon, tended pigs in the wood, and did
get some parings of the pork. Why, the four-footed worker has
already got all that this two-handed one is clamouring for! How
often must I remind you? There is not a horse in England, able
and willing to work, but _has_ due food and lodging; and goes
about sleek-coated, satisfied in heart. And you say, It is
impossible. Brothers, I answer, if for you it be impossible,
what is to become of you? It is impossible for us to believe it
to be impossible. The human brain, looking at these sleek
English horses, refuses to believe in such impossibility for
English men. Do you depart quickly; clear the ways soon, lest
worse befall. We for our share do purpose, with full view of the
enormous difficulty, with total disbelief in the impossibility,
to endeavour while life is in us, and to die endeavouring, we and
our sons, till we attain it or have all died and ended.

Such a Platitude of a World, in which all working horses could be
well fed, and innumerable working men should die starved, were it
not best to end it; to have done with it, and restore it once
for all to the _Jotuns,_ Mud-giants, Frost-giants and Chaotic
Brute-gods of the Beginning? For the old Anarchic Brute-gods it
may be well enough, but it is a Platitude which Men should be
above countenancing by their presence in it. We pray you, let
the word _impossible_ disappear from your vocabulary in this
matter. It is of awful omen; to all of us, and to yourselves
first of all.

Chapter IV

Morrison's Pill

What is to be done, what would you have us do? asks many a one,
with a tone of impatience, almost of reproach; and then, if you
mention some one thing, some two things, twenty things that might
be done, turns round with a satirical tehee, and, "These are your
remedies!" The state of m