"Well, Mr. Dunlop said that the time is coming when every man, or nearly every man, in England will have a vote. And he said that if people used that power well and conscientiously, it would be seeking the peace of the country. Now, you are sure to be a rich man, Roger; one of these days, you'll have a vote. If you knew something of the history of your country, you'd be in a position to use that vote intelligently and to help others to do the same. If you don't, you'll just be taken in by fine words and false promises, and you'll follow with others like a flock of sheep. Therefore I say that, whether you feel the want of it or not, you are bound as a Christian man to—join my English History class."
Roger laughed.
"I knew that was coming!" said he.
"That's one reason. Another is for your own sake. You have plenty of brains, but you are trying to starve them. You want to learn only what you can turn to immediate use and profit. Now that you have learned all the arithmetic you want, what are you going to do in the long evenings? If you'll learn other things, you'll soon get a taste for reading, and I can lend you books. If you don't care for reading—well, indeed, Roger, I don't like to think what may be the end of those long, lonely, stupid evenings."
"That's true," Roger admitted. "Before I began to go to the classes, I was almost mad with the long time, and nothing to do."
"I know it. And by degrees, either you must give in and find something to do, or it will be found for you. You know the old hymn,—
"'Satan finds some mischief still
For idle hands to do.'
"And if I had written that hymn, I should have added, 'Also for idle brains.'"
"Well, Mr. Aylmer, I'll come!" said Roger, laughing again. "I won't keep my brains idle."
"Or feed them with only one kind of food, of which of course they would get very tired. And a tired brain, weary with harping on one idea, is no joke. That is what fills our mad-houses, the doctors say. So much for your brain.