"It is easy to say _sell_; but who will buy? A house won't fetch half its value, and there isn't any money to be had. Besides,--and this is the hardship,--the pride and the feelings of association cling round a house that has been consecrated by years of affection and by the memory of the dead.--I believe I am making an oration; but I despair of expressing myself." "I understand you perfectly; it is sad, indeed." "Excuse me, you don't understand me. Some men put off old houses and put on new ones, like their clothes, without a thought. Others grow into their habitations and become a part of them. You might as well say to a lobster, 'Get out of your shell,' when you know that the poor wretch will die when his naked, quivering members are exposed to the sharp-edged stones. A delicate nature, proud, but gentle, too sensitive to accept charity, and doubtful of a friendly service even, suffers more anguish in one hour, under such circumstances, than your brazen beggar feels from his dirty cradle to his nameless grave." Mr. Holworthy mused. "He has nothing to do, then?" "Nothing, but to suck his thumbs." "Is he willing to work, even if the task should appear irksome?" "I haven't a doubt. He has no _false_ pride. Anything honorable would be welcome." "Perhaps I can find something for him to do; it will be temporary, but its continuance will depend upon himself." "And what is it?" "In visiting the district which has been allotted to me, I have found an unusual number of ignorant, vicious boys, cared for by no one, growing up for the prison or the gallows. I have thought of making some effort to gather them together and start a ragged school. Some friends have agreed to provide the means. But the pay would necessarily be small, and the labor and difficulty great." "A teacher of tatterdemalions! It _isn't_ an inviting field of labor." "No, to a refined man it must be repulsive. Nothing but the idea of doing good would make it a pleasure or even endurable." "I confess myself utterly without any such motive. I hate poor people, and ragged children, and sick women, the forlorn wives of drunken brutes. I shut my eyes to all such odious sights. They say, in a hotel you must never go into the kitchen, if you would keep your appetite; and I am sure one must avoid these wretches in the cellar, if he would have a cheerful view of life in his attic." "You are not so hard-hearted as you would have me believe. Somebody must relieve their distresses." "Somebody, too, must cut off legs, and sew up spouting arteries, and extirpate cancers. Ugh! but I shan't. I leave such jobs to the doctors, whose ears are familiar with shrieks, and whose appetites are not disturbed by the sight of blood." "So the Levite left the wounded man by the wayside, in disgust at his bruises: but still the good Samaritan who helped him hadn't a doctor's degree."