Nineteen hundred? A forecast and a storyFarningham, Marianne
General
Nineteen hundred? A forecast and a story
Farningham, Marianne
Christian life -- Fiction; England -- Social conditions -- Fiction; Reformers -- Fiction
“Certainly, and I will go with you,” said the doctor. “I was wishing for
just such an opportunity. A daughter of a friend of mine is going
there—Miss Tom Whitwell—and I shall be glad to offer to be her escort.
How soon can you go? There is nothing like seeing for yourself, and I
would lose no time about it if I were you; for Knight’s idea is certain
to prove fruitful seed in more directions than one.”
“Yes, there is no doubt of it. The day of the big cities is over, at
least in one respect. It has always been a mistake to plant new works in
the metropolis; London is for other purposes than to make kettles, or
shoes, or blankets in. It has been growing more beautiful and healthy
every year. And there are plenty of other places where the common work
of the factory can be better and more cheaply done than in her streets.
It is waste of many kinds to continue immense black works within the
sound of Big Ben. The laws of England will always be made in
Westminster, and her books within a two-mile radius of Paternoster Row,
while round about the Bank and the Exchange King Commerce will reign for
ever; and from the Thames will still go the ships that are to conquer
the world, not with their big guns but with their cargo.”
“Ah! A cargo of rum and whisky!”
“No, indeed. Do you suppose that England is going to stand that sort of
thing much longer? I am sure she will not, for, Fred, the Church is
waking up at last!”
“Yes; I really believe she is.”
“And, in the meantime, the denizens of ‘darkest London’ are being taken
out by thousands into the light of broad fields and green spaces, and
are being educated to love work by enterprising Englishmen who will
actually _make it pay_.”
“They are sure to do that if it is to be done.”
“I believe it is. There are great capacities for work in the ordinary
working man of England, and now, when so often he is given a share in
the profits which he helps to make, we shall be able to hold our own, no
matter who tries to block the way.”
“Bravo, Felix! I congratulate you on the change of heart and head which
has taken place in you. And when will you go to Craighelbyl?”
“On Monday. I should like to be at home on Sunday. They have asked me to
preach in our little village in the evening. Of course, I cannot preach
a sermon; but a man ought to have learnt something by his prosperities
and adversities, and all the ways in which God deals with his soul, and
I will gladly tell the people that which has been taught to me. And,
after all, they like that sort of thing. Even the parsons are the more
successful the more they let life teach them, and the more of the real
teachings of life which they put in their sermons. Too many of them
really do not understand the fierce temptations which beset men who are
doing the world’s business, and I suppose that is how it is that a man
may so often attend two services, and yet fail to grasp anything which
will help to keep him steady and true on the Monday.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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