‘Let us take the question of the working man not getting his fair share of the profits. You know Lancashire?’
‘Well, I should think I do.’
‘Well, so do I, and it seems to me that the workmen are pretty well employed, and pretty well off. They get their weekly wages.’
‘Yes, in course they do.’
‘But is it not a fact that not a brass farthing of profit is being made in the cotton trades, and that consequently at this time the workman has quite his fair share of the capital? Look at our great companies, our railways, our ships, most of them earning no dividends or but small ones, but who employ millions of men at fair wages. You call the capitalist a bloodsucker, a vampire.’
‘And so he is.’
‘Well, get rid of his tyranny.’
‘How?’
‘Become a capitalist yourself. As a rule the capitalist is a working man who has lifted himself out of his class by superior self-denial, or tact, or skill, or perseverance. Last night when I went to the Town Hall I saw the name of Brown over a grand shop. When I knew Sloville, Brown’s father was one of the poorest men in the place, and there was no boy worse off than poor Brown. I went in and said to him: “I am glad to see you so flourishing.” “Yes,” said he, “I’ve much to be thankful for.” “How is it you’ve got on so?” I said. “By minding my own business, and by not going to the public-house,” he replied.’