“A just one--simply a just one. Justice ought not to be noble, my dear, however rare it may be. Generosity, magnanimity, heroism, and so on--those are the things we call noble, my dear.” “And the founding of cities. Oh, my dear, I remember, when I was at school, it was always said, in what we called our histories, that the founders of cities had honors paid them, and altars built, and divinities done, and holidays held in their honor.” “To that I object,” cried the Major, sternly. “If I founded fifty cities, I would never allow one holiday. The Sabbath is enough; one day in seven--fifteen per cent, of one's whole time; and twenty per cent, of your Sunday goes in church. Very right, of course, and loyal, and truly edifying--Mrs. Hockin's father was a clergyman, Miss Wood; and the last thing I would ever allow on my manor would be a Dissenting chapel; but still I will have no new churches here, and a man who might go against me. They all want to pick their own religious views, instead of reflecting who supports them! It never used to be so; and such things shall never occur on my manor. A good hotel, attendance included, and a sound and moderate table d'hote; but no church, with a popish bag sent round, and money to pay, 'without anything to eat.'” “My dear! my dear!” cried Mrs. Hockin, “I never like you to talk like that. You quite forget who my father was, and your own second son such a very sound priest!” “A priest! Don't let him come here,” cried the Major, “or I'll let him know what tonsure is, and read him the order of Melchisedec. A priest! After going round the world three times, to come home and be hailed as the father of a priest! Don't let him come near me, or I'll sacrifice him.” “Now, Major, you are very proud of him,” his good wife answered, as he shook his stick. “How could he help taking orders when he was under orders to do so? And his views are sound to the last degree, most strictly correct and practical--at least except as to celibacy.” “He holds that his own mother ought never to have been born! Miss Wood, do you call that practical?” “I have no acquaintance with such things,” I replied; “we had none of them in California. But is it practical, Major Hockin--of course you know best in your engineering--I mean, would it not require something like a tunnel for the river and the railway to run on the same ground?” “Why, bless me! That seems to have escaped my notice. You have not been with old Uncle Sam for nothing. We shall have to appoint you our chief engineer.” CHAPTER XXI LISTLESS