"A philanthropist is necessarily an enthusiast; for without enthusiasm what was ever achieved but commonplace? But again: consider the poor in London. To that mob of misery, what is a joint here and a loaf there? I am for voting to them twenty thousand bullocks and one hundred thousand barrels of flour to begin with. They are then comforted, and no more hunger for one while among the poor of London. And so all round." "Sharing the character of your general project, these things, I take it, are rather examples of wonders that were to be wished, than wonders that will happen." "And is the age of wonders passed? Is the world too old? Is it barren? Think of Sarah." "Then I am Abraham reviling the angel (with a smile). But still, as to your design at large, there seems a certain audacity." "But if to the audacity of the design there be brought a commensurate circumspectness of execution, how then?" "Why, do you really believe that your world's charity will ever go into operation?" "I have confidence that it will." "But may you not be over-confident?" "For a Christian to talk so!" "But think of the obstacles!" "Obstacles? I have confidence to remove obstacles, though mountains. Yes, confidence in the world's charity to that degree, that, as no better person offers to supply the place, I have nominated myself provisional treasurer, and will be happy to receive subscriptions, for the present to be devoted to striking off a million more of my prospectuses." The talk went on; the man in gray revealed a spirit of benevolence which, mindful of the millennial promise, had gone abroad over all the countries of the globe, much as the diligent spirit of the husbandman, stirred by forethought of the coming seed-time, leads him, in March reveries at his fireside, over every field of his farm. The master chord of the man in gray had been touched, and it seemed as if it would never cease vibrating. A not unsilvery tongue, too, was his, with gestures that were a Pentecost of added ones, and persuasiveness before which granite hearts might crumble into gravel. Strange, therefore, how his auditor, so singularly good-hearted as he seemed, remained proof to such eloquence; though not, as it turned out, to such pleadings. For, after listening a while longer with pleasant incredulity, presently, as the boat touched his place of destination, the gentleman, with a look half humor, half pity, put another bank-note into his hands; charitable to the last, if only to the dreams of enthusiasm. CHAPTER VIII. A CHARITABLE LADY.