“Oh! He was on his feet like a flash. He said the man’s sentiments did him honor—his emotion did him honor. With men having such comprehension of their rights, and such faith in the honesty of their fellow-men, he could trust the building of the palace. And then he drew a picture of life in the Social Palace—the labor, which would not be drudgery, but a pleasant exercise, that would preserve the health of both body and mind; the nursery and schools for the children; the grand festivals in the vast, glass-covered court, festooned with banners and garlands of the flowers their women and children would cultivate; the music, the societies, the theatre, where the children would learn elegance of bearing and address—O Lord! Burnham, I never heard anything like it. You see, he has studied this subject profoundly. If he succeeds, you will see one grand thing—the happiness of the aged, for they will have a sphere just as the children will. Now, life is organized for the strongest—that is, for adults. No doubt about it. Children are not happy, nor healthy, as a general thing. They are in the way; so are old people. Well, he only made a little speech, ending with a depreciation of war, and some touching remarks on the cultivation of the sentiment of the brotherhood of man. War, he called a stupendous imbecility, as a civilized way of settling disputes, and he offered a gracious tribute to Christ and Dr. Forest.” “Oh, shame!” exclaimed Mrs. Kendrick. “I don’t mean, you know, that he mixed them together. He spoke of Christ when talking of the brotherhood of man, and he said, but for Dr. Forest, one of the best and noblest, as well as most learned men he had ever met, the first Social Palace would have been built in some other place. I never saw men so earnest. Why, they already adore the man. They would do anything for him. He’ll get good work out of them, you may be sure.” “Well, I should think he might, if in working for him, they are building up a grand home for themselves,” said Mrs. Burnham. “Cost $4,000,000, you say, Kendrick. I tell you, it will never pay,” said Burnham. “So much ornament, you see. Now what on earth do poor people want of an astronomical observatory, and a theatre, and library, and billiard saloon? It’s all nonsense. Such people want nothing but a decent home and decent things generally.” “Well, that has been my view; but Frauenstein says you won’t know the second generation of the Social Palace as what we understand as laborers’ children.” “But don’t you see, bringing them up in such luxury, baths, and amusements, and accomplishments, and all that,” said Burnham, “they’ll feel themselves too good to work?”