‹Rarity.›—According to Senior, of all the circumstances which determine value, rarity is the most decisive. I have no objection to make to that remark, if it is not that the form in which it is made presupposes that value is inherent in things themselves—a hypothesis the very appearance of which I shall always combat. At bottom, the word ‹rarity›, as applied to the subject we are now discussing, expresses in a concise manner this idea, that, ‹cæteris paribus›, a service has more value in proportion as we have more difficulty in rendering it to ourselves; and that, consequently, a larger equivalent is exacted from us when we demand it from another. Rarity is one of these difficulties. It is one ‹obstacle› more to be surmounted. The greater it is, the greater remuneration do we award to those who surmount it for us. Rarity gives rise frequently to large remunerations, and this is my reason for refusing to admit with the English Economists that Value is proportional to Labour. We must take into account the parsimony with which nature treats us in certain respects. The word ‹service› embraces all these ideas and shades of ideas. ‹Judgment.›—Storch sees ‹value› in the judgment by which we recognise it. Undoubtedly, whenever we have to do with ‹relation›, it is necessary to compare and to ‹judge›. Nevertheless, the relation is one thing and the judgment is another. When we compare the height of two trees, their magnitude, and the difference of their magnitude, are independent of our appreciation. But in the determination of value, what is the relation of which we have to form a judgment? It is the relation of two services exchanged. The business is to discover what the services rendered [p168] ‹are worth› in relation to those received, in connexion with acts or things exchanged, and taking all circumstances into account,—not what intrinsic utility resides in these acts or things, for this utility may, to some extent, be altogether independent of human exertion, and, consequently, devoid of ‹value›. Storch falls into the error which I am now combating when he says,— “Our judgment enables us to discover the relation which exists between our wants and the utility of things. The determination which our judgment forms upon the ‹utility of things› constitutes their ‹value›.” And, farther on, he says,— “In order to create a value, we must have the conjunction of these three circumstances:—‹1st›, That man experiences or conceives a want; ‹2d›, That there exists something calculated to satisfy that want; and, ‹3d›, That a judgment is pronounced in favour of the ‹utility of the thing›. Then the value of things is their relative ‹utility›.” During the day I experience the want of seeing clearly. There exists one thing calculated to satisfy that want—namely, the light of the sun. My judgment pronounces in favour of the utility of that thing, and . . . it has no value. Why? Because I enjoy it without calling for the services of any one.