“But,” he resumed, “you won’t do, Mr Walton. You’re not fit for your profession. You won’t tell a lie for God’s sake. You won’t dodge about a little to keep all right between Jove and his weary parishioners. You won’t cheat a little for the sake of the poor! You wouldn’t even bamboozle a little at a bazaar!” “I should not like to boast of my principles,” I answered; “for the moment one does so, they become as the apples of Sodom. But assuredly I would not favour a fiction to keep a world out of hell. The hell that a lie would keep any man out of is doubtless the very best place for him to go to. It is truth, yes, The Truth that saves the world.” “You are right, I daresay. You are more sure about it than I am though.” “Let us agree where we can,” I said, “first of all; and that will make us able to disagree, where we must, without quarrelling.” “Good,” he said—“Would you like to see my work shop?” “Very much, indeed,” I answered, heartily. “Do you take any pleasure in applied mechanics?” “I used to do so as a boy. But of course I have little time now for anything of the sort.” “Ah! of course.” He pushed a compartment of books. It yielded, and we entered a small closet. In another moment I found myself leaving the floor, and in yet a moment we were on the floor of an upper room. “What a nice way of getting up-stairs!” I said. “There is no other way of getting to this room,” answered Mr Stoddart. “I built it myself; and there was no room for stairs. This is my shop. In my library I only read my favourite books. Here I read anything I want to read; write anything I want to write; bind my books; invent machines; and amuse myself generally. Take a chair.” I obeyed, and began to look about me. The room had many books in detached book-cases. There were various benches against the walls between,—one a bookbinder’s; another a carpenter’s; a third had a turning-lathe; a fourth had an iron vice fixed on it, and was evidently used for working in metal. Besides these, for it was a large room, there were several tables with chemical apparatus upon them, Florence-flasks, retorts, sand-baths, and such like; while in a corner stood a furnace. “What an accumulation of ways and means you have about you!” I said; “and all, apparently, to different ends.” “All to the same end, if my object were understood.” “I presume I must ask no questions as to that object?” “It would take time to explain. I have theories of education. I think a man has to educate himself into harmony. Therefore he must open every possible window by which the influences of the All may come in upon him. I do not think any man complete without a perfect development of his mechanical faculties, for instance, and I encourage them to develop themselves into such windows.” “I do not object to your theory, provided you do not put it forward as a perfect scheme of human life. If you did, I should have some questions to ask you about it, lest I should misunderstand you.”