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“That may be all very true, Tom,” returned Matty, with a dissatisfied and puzzled look, “but I cannot help feeling that I have so much, so very much, more than I need of everything, while the thousands I speak of have so little–so very little. Why could not rich people like us be content with plainer things, and use fewer things, and so have more to give to the poor?”

“You have broached a very wide and profound subject, Matty, and it would probably take us a week to go into it exhaustively, but a few words may suffice to show you that your remedy would not meet the case. Suppose that all the people in England were all at once smitten with your desire to retrench in order to have more to spare to the poor–and were to act upon their convictions; to determine that henceforth they would live on the plainest food, such as potatoes, mutton, and bread; what, I ask you, would become of the great army of confectioners? Would they not be thrown out of employment, and help, perhaps, to swell the ranks of the poor? If the rich ceased to buy pictures, what would become of painters? If they gave up books, (horrible to think of!) what would be the consequences to authors, and what the result to themselves? If carriages and horses were not kept, what would become of coachmen and grooms and ostlers–to say nothing of coach-makers, saddlers, harness-makers, and their innumerable dependants? No–living plainly or simply is not what is wanted, but living reasonably–according to one’s means. Then, as to your having, as you say, much more than you need– that does not injure the poor, for nothing of it is wasted. Does not part of the surplus go to Mary and James and the other servants, and much of what they do not consume goes in charity, directly, to the poor themselves?”

“Well, but,” returned Matty, with the distressed and puzzled look still unabated, “though all you tell me may be quite true, it does not in the least degree alter the fact that there is something quite wrong in the condition of the poor of our great cities, which ought to be remedied.”

“Of course it does not, little woman, but it relieves my mind, and it ought to relieve yours, as to the selfishness of enjoying a good breakfast.”

“But, surely,” resumed Matty, with a slightly indignant look and tone, “surely you don’t mean to tell me that there is no remedy for the miserable condition of the poor, and that the rich must just sigh over it, or shut their eyes to it, while they continue to revel in luxury?”

“How you fly to extremes, sister!” said Tom, with a laugh, as he neatly cut the top off a fourth egg. “I combat your erroneous views, and straightway you charge me, by implication, with having no views at all! A remedy there surely is, but the wisest among us are not agreed as to what it is–chiefly, I think, because the remedy is not simple but extremely complex. It cannot be stated in a few words. It consists in the wise and prompt application of multiform means–“

“Brother,” interrupted Matty with a smile, “do you think I am to be turned from my quest after this great truth by the stringing together of words without meaning–at least words vague and incomprehensible?”

“By no means, Matty. I hope that nothing will ever turn you from your quest after the best method of helping the poor. But my words are not meant to be vague. By multiform means I would indicate legislation in numerous channels, and social effort in all its ramifications, besides the correction of many erroneous modes of thought–such, for instance, as the putting of the less before the greater–“