“‘I will do so,’ said a blunt, uneducated man, ‘and I cry shame on any church which, for the sake of adorning its building, will in such a way as Mr. Shelve proposes thus make friends of the mammon of unrighteousness.’ “‘Sir,’ said another, ‘I move that the grateful thanks of this church be presented to Mr. Quellset for his munificent gift. We have been patiently listening to a lot of arrant nonsense. We have nothing to do with the way in which a man chooses to make his money. If we had, I should say that Mr. Quellset has done the country more good than harm. He has found a new employment for men, women, and children. He pays better wages for box-making and all the other branches of his industries than they could earn in many ways. It is not yet proved that opium does more harm than alcohol; and, for my own part, I believe that all these good gifts of God, taken in moderation, are useful. And, besides, beggars must not be choosers, and it would be an insane thing to return a man’s money when we need it so much.’ “Nevertheless” [added the journal], “this Quixotic company of saints decided by a majority to return the cash, and pay its debts by the practice of its own self-denial and generosity.” There were many quiet souls filled with piety and patriotism who thanked God and took courage when they heard this, for there was a leaven working in the real Christian society of the day which was destined eventually to bring about a marvellous change. And this change, like almost everything else in England, had to do with politics. CHAPTER IX. IN THE AUTUMN. Little Darentdale led the way. The summer had not yet died into winter, nor had the leisure which comes into a country parish with the short days and long evenings left the thoughts of the people free. Nevertheless, some time and thought were given to an experiment which John Dallington, urged by Arthur Knight, had proposed should be tested in the village. The village was a small one, and it was almost wholly agricultural. There were about thirty persons who were employers of labour, and the rest were employed by them. Thirteen were looked up to as belonging to the moneyed classes, and of these, Mr. Whitwell—who lived out of the village, but had property in it—and John Dallington were the principal individuals. They employed on their farms the largest number of labourers, but besides these there were two smaller farmers, and several other persons who owned or rented a few acres of land, a gentleman who had retired from his business in London and had bought a good-sized house and garden, a lady of limited income, who kept one servant, and the general shopkeeper, who combined the businesses of chemist and druggist, draper, grocer, and coal dealer, all in one. There were, besides, two bakers, a blacksmith, a butcher, four publicans, and Henry Harris.