“Then,” resumed Thorwald, “you can perhaps understand another evil of those times. It did not grow directly out of love for country, but that too much lauded sentiment prevented the people from seeing its full enormity. This was the practice of attempting by law to protect the inhabitants of one country by shutting out the goods of all others. This prohibition included both the manufactured articles and natural products, and the means adopted was the placing of a high duty on imports. If the political leaders of a people could succeed in convincing them that such a course would raise wages, increase the opportunities for accumulating money, and make them in general more prosperous, then it was forthwith adopted, entirely without regard to the effect it might have on the rest of the world. It is not at all plain to be seen, from reading the history of those times, that the happiest results always followed the passage of these laws, but the experiment was tried whenever a majority felt that there was a fair expectation of such benefits. The only question considered was whether it would be good policy for their particular country. And if one result of this selfish legislation was the closing of mills and the loss of employment to thousands of workmen in some other part of the world, these facts were paraded in the public prints as though they were matter for rejoicing. Men were yet to learn that the maxim which the politicians were fond of quoting, ‘the greatest good to the greatest number,’ should have a world-wide application to give it any meaning at all.” While my prejudices were receiving another shock, I knew the doctor was really enjoying this part of Thorwald’s talk. So, in order to draw him out, I said to him, as Thorwald paused: “Doctor, I think our friend must belong to your party.” “I should rather belong to his party,” replied the doctor. “Thank you,” said Thorwald. “That is a compliment which I appreciate; and now I think I have talked long enough for one sitting. Let us get some lunch, and then go out for a good walk.” Thorwald must have seen that the doctor’s mood was softening, but he probably thought it wise not to speak more directly to him at present. CHAPTER XXVII. THE CHILDREN’S DAY. As it was a holiday, the children accompanied us on our walk, and we had further opportunity of observing the easy, natural relations which existed between them and their parents. There was neither undue familiarity nor too much restraint. There was respect as well as affection on both sides, and a scrupulous concern for each other’s feelings. Evidently the children had all the rights they could appropriate to their advantage, while there was no abrogation of the privileges or the duties of the parents. At a convenient time during the afternoon I spoke to Zenith about this happy condition of family affairs, and I was greatly enlightened and not a little amused by her reply.