“Yes, indeed. The effects of modern civilization are a constant burden on the compassion of every highly constituted nature.”
“The only means that seems to me likely to mitigate the evil,” continued Rachel, charmed at having the most patient listener who had ever fallen to her lot, “would be to commence an establishment where some fresh trades might be taught, so as to lessen the glut of the market, and to remove the workers that are forced to undersell one another, and thus oblige the buyers to give a fairly remunerative price.”
“Precisely my own views. To commence an establishment that would drain off the superfluous labour, and relieve the oppressed, raising the whole tone of female employment.”
“And this is the project you meant?”
“And in which, for the first time, I begin to hope for success, if it can only receive the patronage of some person of influence.”
“Oh, anything I can do!” exclaimed Rachel, infinitely rejoiced. “It is the very thing I have been longing for for years. What, you would form a sort of industrial school, where the children could be taught some remunerative labour, and it might soon be almost self-supporting?”
“Exactly; the first establishment is the difficulty, for which I have been endeavouring to put a few mites together.”
“Everyone would subscribe for such a purpose!” exclaimed Rachel.
“You speak from your own generous nature, Miss Curtis; but the world would require patronesses to recommend.”
“There could be no difficulty about that!” exclaimed Rachel; but at this moment she saw the Myrtlewood pony carriage coming to the door, and remembering that she had undertaken to drive out Ermine Williams in it, she was obliged to break off the conversation, with an eager entreaty that Mr. Mauleverer would draw up an account of his plan, and bring it to her the next day, when she would give her opinion on it, and consider of the means.
“My dear,” said her mother, on her return, “how long you have been; and what am I to give for the watercolour?”
“Oh, I forgot all about the watercolour; but never mind what we give, mamma, it is all to go to an asylum for educating poor girls, and giving them some resource beyond that weary lace-making—the very thing I have always longed for. He is coming to settle it all with me tomorrow, and then we will arrange what to give.”
“Indeed, my dear, I hope it will be something well managed. I think if it were not for those middlemen, lace-making would not be so bad. But you must not keep poor Miss Williams waiting.”
Ermine had never seen Rachael in such high spirits as when they set out through the network of lanes, describing her own exceeding delight in the door thus opening for the relief of the suffering over which she had long grieved, and launching out into the details of the future good that was to be achieved. At last Ermine asked what Rachel knew of the proposer.
“Captain Keith heard he was a distinguished professor and essayist.”
“Then I wonder we have not heard his name,” said Ermine. “It is a remarkable one; one might look in the Clergy List at Villars’s.”
“Villars called him a clerical gentleman,” mused Rachel.
“Then you would be sure to be able to find out something about him before committing yourself.”
“I can see what he is,” said Rachel, “a very sensible, accomplished man, and a great deal more; not exactly a finished gentleman. But that is no objection to his doing a great work.”
“None at all,” said Ermine, smiling; “but please forgive me. We have suffered so much from trusting too implicitly, that I never can think it safe to be satisfied without thorough knowledge of a person’s antecedents.”
“Of course,” said Rachel, “I shall do nothing without inquiry. I will find out all about him, but I cannot see any opening for distrust. Schemes of charity are not compatible with self-seeking and dishonesty.”
“But did I not hear something about opinions?”
“Oh, as to that, it was only Villars. Besides, you are a clergyman’s daughter, and your views have a different colouring from mine. Modern research has introduced so many variations of thought, that no good work would be done at all if we required of our fellow-labourers perfect similarity of speculative belief.”
“Yet suppose he undertook to teach others?”
“The simple outlines of universal doctrine and morality which are required by poor children are not affected by the variations to which investigation conducts minds of more scope.”
“I am afraid such variations may often reach the foundation.”
“Now, Miss Williams, I am sure you must often have heard it observed how when it comes to real practical simple teaching of uninstructed people, villagers or may be heathens, the details of party difference melt away, and people find themselves in accordance.”
“True, but there I think party differences in the Church, and even the variations between Christian sects are concerned, both being different ways of viewing the same truth. These may, like the knights in the old fable, find that both were right about the shield, both have the same foundation. But where the foundation is not the same, the results of the teaching will not agree.”
“Everyone agrees as to morality.”
“Yes, but do all give a motive sufficient to enforce the self-denial that morality entails? Nay, do they show the way to the spiritual strength needful to the very power of being moral?”
“That is begging the question. The full argument is whether the full church, say Christian system, exactly as you, as we hold it, is needful to the perfection of moral observance. I don’t say whether I assent, but the present question is whether the child’s present belief and practice need be affected by its teacher’s dogmatic or undogmatic system.”
“The system for life is generally formed in childhood. Harvest depends on seed time.”
“And after all,” added Rachel, “we have no notion whether this
