Chapter XXI
“If you-would improve their lot,
Put a penny in the slot!”
English Song (adapted).
ERTAINLY John Bull is a singularly sentimental animal. I have said so before, but I should like to repeat it now with additional emphasis. I do not believe that he ever sold his wife at Smithfield, or, if he did, he became dreadfully penitent immediately after and forthwith purchased a new one. He is not a socialist; that is a too horribly and coldly logical creed for him, but he enjoys stepping forth from the seclusion of that well-furnished castle which every Englishman is so proud of, and dutifully endeavoring to ameliorate the condition of the working-classes.
“England expects every man to do his duty,” he repeats, as he puts his hand into his capacious pocket and provides half a dozen mendicants with the means of becoming intoxicated.
Oh yes, my kind English friends, I admit that I am putting it strongly; but again let me remind you (in case you ever see these words) that if I begin to be quite serious I shall cease to be quite readable. The working-man, I quite allow, is provided with the opportunity of learning the violin and the geography of South America and the Thirty-nine Articles of the Anglican Church, besides obtaining many other substantial advantages from the spread of the Altruistic Idea. You are wiser than I am (certainly more serious), and you have done these deeds. For my part, I shall now confine myself to recording my own share in one of them. Only I must beg you to remember that for a time I was actually a philanthropist myself, and as a mere chronicler write with some authority.