‘Not a bit of it—only practical, as we women always are when you men are up in the clouds. I believe, as soon as the peasant has got back to the hind, we shall have a new era for England, I believe the agricultural labourer who is helped to emigrate to Canada can better his condition at once. But I am not an agricultural labourer. I have no wish to pass my days in milking cows and rearing poultry; I have no wish to pass my days thousands of miles away from London, or Paris, or Rome. Am I not the heir of all the ages underneath the sun? I am for stopping at home and doing all the good I can. I do not feel called upon to dress like a guy, as the Shaker women do; nor do I see how you can make any settlement that can last. It may succeed for a time, if the conditions are favourable, and you select the men and women whom you take out. But as the old ones die off and the young people grow up there will be all sorts of difficulties. Wordsworth, Southey, and Coleridge had similar dreams. It was fortunate for them and the world that they were unable to carry them out. They did much better work at home. As long as human nature remains what it is we must build on the old lines.’ ‘How then, would you regenerate society?’ ‘By the regeneration of the individual. What is society but a collection of men? Save the man and the mass are saved. Buxton believes in science; Wentworth, you believe in politics. Well, both are means to an end; but more is required.’ ‘And that is?’ ‘Christ in the heart.’ ‘Rather an exploded idea in these enlightened times. Why, you take us back to the dark ages!’ said Buxton. ‘Dark ages, indeed! At any rate they were ages of faith—when men believed in God, and did mighty works. Alas! we have no such men now.’ ‘And why not?’ ‘Because this is the age of material organization, of mechanical progress, of the exaltation of the mass over the individual, of an artificial equality; an age that has lost faith, an age of despair, when the rich man cries “Let us eat and drink, for to-morrow we die;” when the statesman recklessly legislates, believing “After me the deluge;” when the people “feed on lies.” “The light shineth in the darkness, and the darkness apprehendeth it not.”’ ‘Nevertheless,’ said Wentworth, ‘I feel inclined to make a start in Canada. Rose, I know, will come after a little pressing; and if you will come with us, I have a friend who has placed some land at my disposal. I have found some men and women of the right stamp who are ready to emigrate. They live in unhealthy homes, they have bad food, and are diseased in consequence. They are surrounded by evil companions, and that leads them into crime. Man is, to a certain extent, the creature of circumstance. ‘Yes, that is too true,’ replied Buxton; ‘but what do you propose as the remedy?’