Yeast: a Problem

s comfortable fortune and good connections, the future seemed bright and possible enough as to circumstances. He knew that Argemone felt f

ewe-lamb, and set him barking at all the world, as many a poor lover has to do in defence of his morse

to him. So it must be. He had spoken of a law wider than he thought in his fancy, that the angels might learn love for all by love for an individual. Do we not all learn love so? Is it not the first touch of the mother's bosom which awakens in the infant's heart that spark of affection which is hereafter to spread itself out towards every human being, and to lose none of its devotion for its first object, as it expands itself to innumerable new ones? Is it not by love, too-by looking into loving human eyes, by feeling the care of loving hands,-that the infant first learns that there exist other beings beside itself?-that every body which it sees expresses a heart and will like its own? Be sure of it. Be sure that to have found the key to one heart is to have found the key to all; that tr

the shortest and clearest way toward a practical knowledge of the present. 'Here,' he said to himself, 'in the investigation of existing rela

fe; and as he lay on his sofa and let his thoughts flow, Tregarva's dark revelations began to mix themselves with dreams about the regeneration of the Whitford poor, and those again with dreams about the heiress of Whitford; and many a luscious scene a

ths, and boudoirs, conservatories, and carriages; a safe material purse, and fixed material society; law and ord

d. Those old Greeks were not so far wrong when they said that what made

d intruded without invitation into a hidden sanctuary, and looked round for a book to drive

his

intense pensiv

, hung in the g

h their serene

ckon

disliked, because his own luxurious day-dreams had always flowed in such sad discord with the terri

e, without my own will or deed; but considering that gold, like feathers, is equally useful to those who have and those who have not, why, it is worth while for the goose to remember that he may

but the immaculate colonel, the chevalier sans peur et sans reproche, dared to go about the country 'such a figure.' A minute afterwards he walked in, in a student's felt hat, a ra

you been thi

a week's common sense. A glass of cider, for mercy's sake, "t

e you been

-traps, rubricalities and sanitary reforms, and all other inventions, possible and impossi

rmula cracks und

tees, too, I think.

there is in that very sanitary reform! It is the great fact of the age. We shall have men arise and write epics on it, when they have le

elf, and call it

y n

nd the Ma

turn sanitary reformer-the only true soldier-and conquer those real devils a

edly in earnest now-a-days, that I shall have to bolt to the backwoods to amuse myself in peace; or

laughed a

to get on so well with men with wh

k Puginesquery, I stick my head on one side attentively, and "think the more," like the lady's parrot. I have been all the morning looking over a set of drawings for my l

your tact, a

uppose, means by "wisdom." Young geniuses like you, who have been green enough to sell your souls to "tru

wn and eat me, than give up speaking my mind,' said Lancelot.

!-After all, the world is like a spaniel; the more you beat it, the better it likes you-if you have

rs laughing at Young England, and yet its little finger is thicker than my whole body, for it is trying to do something; and I,

tunity this evening. Don't

. Do

e, except at home. Will you

hom shall we

wo, I suppose. But between Saint Venus and Vieuxbois you may s

der than now I cannot be;

htful smiles, which came over him whenever his better child's

tly on your legs. Have faith in yourself; pick these men's brains, and all men's. You can do it. Say to yourself boldly, as the false prophet in India said to the missi

traitor to myself every hour in the day? And yet

e must be led, not leader. If you love a woman, make her have faith

his head. The

a meaning in those old words our mothers us

shrugged h

er who was her child's father. But here comes my kit

inner-party

r, shipowner, banker, railway director, money-lender to kings and princes; and last of all, as the summit of his own and his compeer's ambition, to land-owner. He had half a dozen estates in as many different counties. He had added house to house, and field to field; and at last bought Minchampstead Park and ten thousand acres, for two-thirds its real value, from that enthusiastic sportsman Lord Peu de Cervelle, whose family had come in with the Conqueror, and gone out with George IV. So, at least, they always said; but it was remarkable that their name could never be traced farther back than the dissolution of the monasteries: and Calumnious Dryasdusts would sometimes insolently father their title on James I. and one of his batches of bought peerages. But let the dead bury their dead. There was now a new lord in Minchampstead; and every country Caliban was finding, to his disgust, that he had 'got a new master,' and must perforce 'be a new man.' Oh! how the squires swore and the farmers chuckled, when the 'Parvenu' sold the Minchampstead hounds,

e had formed his narrow theory of the universe, and he was methodically and consc

t, he turned

racks at work to

ant, extravagant do-nothing Squire Lavingtons around him. At heart, however, Mammoth-blinded, he was kindly and upright. A man of a stately presence; a broad, honest

borough times, Mr. Smith,' he once said to Lancelot, 'we could have made a senator of you at once; but, for the sake of finality, we were forced to relinquish that organ of influence. The Tories had abused it, really, a little too far; and now w

erence to her favourite vicar,-a stern, prim, close-shaven, dyspeptic man, with a meek, cold smile, which might have beco

vain, Smith! When did you know a woman le

tiently, 'why will they make such f

ys on the winning side, the cunning little beauties. In the war-time, when the soldiers had to play the world's game, the ladies all caught the red-coat fever; now, in these talking and thinking days (and be hanged to them fo

uiet, truly high-bred young man, with a sweet open countenance, and an ample forehead, whose size would have vouc

the room, Bracebridge?' asked Lord Vi

who has taken the shootin

oke disgusting short pipes; and when we established the Coverley Club in Trinity, they set up an opposition, and called themselves the Navvies. And they used to make piratical expeditions down to

and the noblest heart of any man I ever met. If he does not dis

metaphysics, and all that sort of thing. I heard of him one night last spring, on which he had been seen, if you will believe it, going

ght be another Mirabeau, if he held the right cards in the right rubber. And he really ought to sui

d small thanks to them. However, I will speak to

l dinner-time by never speaking a word to his next neighbour, Miss Newbroom, who was longing with all her heart to talk sentiment to him about the Exhibition; and when Argemon

the drawing-room with Argemone. But he soon discovered, as I suppose we all have, that 'it never rains but it pours,' and that one cannot fall in with a new fact or a new acquaintance but next day twenty fre

ly, 'my girls are raving about your new schoo

dernist naturalism is creeping back even into our painted glass. I could have wi

d the host, with

y dislocated, and the patron saint did not look quite like a starved rabbit with its neck w

'Bracebridge's tongue is privileged, you kn

sidering that he never looked for his way). 'I don't see how all these painted windows, and cros

the books of the unlearned. I do not think that we have any right in the nineteent

ave been educated in their adolescence! and as the youth of the individual is exactly analogous to the youth of the collective

d, therefore, could not see that Lancelot was arguing for him. 'All very fine, Smith,' said the squire; 'it's a pity you won't leave off puzzling your head with books, and stick to fox-hunting. All you young gentlemen will do is to turn the heads of the poor with your c

e halfpenny ballads in tim

to say that, as far as I can find from my agents, when the upper cla

,' said V

Lancelot, 'just that the u

ly,' said Lord Minchampstead, 'have a

at we know very little. Look again, what a noble literature of people's songs and hymns G

,' said Vieuxbois, 'as are compa

rman people for themselves. There is the secret of their power. Why not educate the

opposite, 'would you have working men turn ballad wr

, I ought to say, if the word mean anything-who wrote the "Lowe

counts of heroic industry and self-sacrifice in girls whose education,

ied green silk parasols, put the legs of pianos into trousers, and were too prudish to

aws of political economy do not make themselves fully felt. Here, where we have no uncleared world to drain the labour-market, we may pity and alleviate the condition of the working-classes, but we can

few might, possibly, be made for the many, and not the many for the few; and that pr

, no dead-lift can be given to the condition-in plain English,

d smiled, and par

ameliorations, my young friend

uld he have seen Lancelot's notion of a dead-lift. Lord Minchampstead was thinking of

otion that the poor were to educate themselves. In his scheme, of course the clergy and the gentry were to educate the poor, who were to take down thankfully as much as it was tho

ay I ask what limit you

, at least, not hinder his developing, his whole faculties to their very utmost, however lofty that may be. While a man who might be an author remains a spade-drudge, or a journeyman while he has capa

to rise in life. They had no such self-willed fancy in the goo

t he luckily remembered at

essary element in society, to which all others are to accommodate themselves. "Given the rights of the few rich, to find the condition of the

hampstead

t really denounce you as a Communist. Lo

ncholy, moonstruck face, swam up to him, and said something kind and commonplace. She spoke in the simplicity of her heart, but he chose to think she was patronising him-she had not talked commonplaces to the vicar. He tried

oble self-sacrifice to stoop to notice the poor awkward youth. And yet if he could have seen the pure moonlight of sisterly pity which filled all her heart as she retreated, with something of a blush and something of a sigh, and her heart fluttered and fell, would he have been content?

, infinitely more than I deserve? And yet I pretend to admire tales of chivalry! Old knightly hearts would

ans addle; but the chick is breaking the