in most
respectable coats, sitting at most orderly tables, hold the language of
pure barbarism. If you drew one of them aside, and said to him, 'But
what about the fruits of the spirit?'--what sort of look would he give
you?"

"I agree entirely," exclaimed Dyce. "And for that very reason I want to
work for a new civilising principle."

"If you get into the House, shall you talk there about bio-sociology?"

"Why no," answered Dyce, with a chuckle. "If I were capable of that, I
should have very little chance of getting into the House at all, or of
doing anything useful anywhere."

"In other words," said his father, still eyeing an unlit pipe, "one
must be practical--eh, Dyce?"

"In the right way."

"Yes, yes: one must be practical, practical. If you know which _is_ the
right way, I am very glad, I congratulate you. For my own part, I seek
it vainly; I seek it these forty years and more; and it grows clear to
me that I should have done much better not to heed that question at
all. 'Blessed are the merciful--blessed are the pure in heart--blessed
are the peacemakers.' It is all strikingly unpractical, Dyce, my boy;
you can't, again in to-day's sweet language, 'run' the world on those
principles. They are utterly incompatible with business; and business
is life."

"But they are not at all incompatible with the civilisation I have in
view," Dyce exclaimed.

"I am glad to hear it; very glad. You don't, however, see your way to
that civilisation by teaching such axioms."

"Unfortunately not."

"No. You have to teach 'Blessed are the civic-minded, for they shall
profit by their civism.' It has to be profit, Dyce, profit, profit.
Live thus, and you'll get a good deal out of life; live otherwise, and
you _may_ get more, but with an unpleasant chance of getting a good
deal less."

"But isn't it unfortunately true that Christianity spoke also of
rewards?"

"Yes, it is true. The promise was sometimes adapted to the poorer
understanding. More often, it was nobler, and by that I take my stand.
'Blessed are the pure in heart, for they shall see God. Blessed are the
peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God.' The words,
you know, had then a meaning. Now they have none. To see God was not a
little thing, I imagine, but the vision, probably, brought with it
neither purple nor fine linen.--For curiosity's sake, Dyce, read
Matthew v. to vii. before you go to sleep. You'll find the old Bible in
your bedroom."