choose to think too closely on what I am
myself; but, I believe, I rely on the straightforward
honesty of my hands, and the open
nature of their opposition, in contra-distinction
to the way in which the turn-out will be
managed in some mills, just because they
know I scorn to take a single dishonourable
advantage, or do an underhand thing myself.
It goes farther than a whole course of
lectures on 'Honesty is the Best Policy'—life
diluted into words. No, no! What the
master is, that will the men be, without
over-much taking thought on his part."

"That is a great admission," said Margaret,
laughing. "When I see men violent
and obstinate in pursuit of their rights, I
may safely infer that the master is the same;
that he is a little ignorant of that spirit
which suffereth long, and is kind, and seeketh
not her own."

"You are just like all strangers who don't
understand the working of our system, Miss
Hale," said he, hastily. "You suppose that
our men are puppets of dough, ready to be
moulded into any amiable form we please.
You forget we have only to do with them for
less than a third of their lives; and you seem
not to perceive that the duties of a manufacturer
are far larger and wider than those
merely of an employer of labour: we have
a wide commercial character to maintain,
which makes us into the great pioneers of
civilisation."

"It strikes me," said Mr. Hale, smiling,
"that you might pioneer a little at home.
They are a rough, heathenish set of fellows,
these Milton men of yours."

"They are that," replied Mr. Thornton.
"Rose-water surgery won't do for them.
Cromwell would have made a capital
mill-owner, Miss Hale. I wish we had him to
put down this strike for us."

"Cromwell is no hero of mine," said she,
coldly. " But I am trying to reconcile your
admiration of despotism with your respect
for other men's independence of character."

He reddened at her tone. "I choose to
be the unquestioned and irresponsible master
of my hands during the hours that they
labour for me. But those hours past, our
relation ceases; and then comes in the same
respect for their independence that I myself
exact,"

He did not speak again for a minute, he
was too much vexed. But he shook it off,
and bade Mr. and Mrs. Hale good night.
Then, drawing near to Margaret, he said in a
lower voice—

"I spoke hastily to you once this evening,
and, I am afraid, rather rudely. But you
know I am but an uncouth Milton
manufacturer; will you forgive me?"

"Certainly," said she, smiling up in his
face, the expression of which was somewhat
anxious and oppressed, and hardly cleared
away as he met her sweet sunny countenance,
out of which all the north-wind effect of their
discussion had entirely vanished. But she did
not put out her hand to him, and again he
felt the omission, and set it down to pride.

HOLIDAYS AT MADAME GRONDET'S.

ON leaving Madame Grondet's,* for the
usual six weeks' holiday, we consigned our
prizes, just received, our trunks and parcels,
to a hackney coach, but we never got into it
ourselves. It would have stifled us. We walked,
free girls, down the Champs Elysées. We
laughed at everything. There was home
before us.

Can a Parisian apartment, au second, be
called a home? I think so, indeed, and a
very happy home too. To be sure, one is not
often in it, except to take one's meals (if one
does not eat at a restaurant), and to sleep;
but it would not be at all more disagreeable
to be obliged to spend the greater part of
one's life in that little apartment, than it is
to live cooped up in a house four feet by six,
as many English people do in England,
consoling themselves with the delusion that it is
their castle. English people in Paris won't
live as the Parisians do. They must have
their laborious comforts; their morning's
housekeeping; their hot luncheon; their
constitutional, and all their heavy respectability.
They persist in staying in the house
all day, unless it suits them to go out for a
formal walk in the afternoon, just as they
would do in England; they will stay at home
all through the sunshiny morning, and at
three o'clock you will see them sally forth
under a pelting rain in clogs and umbrellas
to perform conscientiously their three or four
miles of heavy duty. They are at great pains
to procure fine joints of good beef, and adhere
to puddings with the patience of Job.
Enjoyment they seem half to dread, lest it
should lead to something vulgar. Before they
will join a game, they beg pardon—but, are
you sure it is correct? is it quite the thing?
They consider whether it is comme il faut to
do this; or whether it is distingué to do that,
or whether it is heigh-diddle-diddle, hokey-
pokey, or whatever you please, to do the
other thing. If it were the peculiar mark of
the shopkeeping class that they were happy
and enjoyed themselves, I am sure you would
find their English patrons—shopkeepers also
in their own country very often—carefully
making themselves miserable. If it were
decided by the haut ton that ices should be
eaten standing, not an English man or woman
would sit down with an ice, and make himself
or herself comfortable and happy, How
different is the easy, out-door, pic-nicking
Parisian life! How delightful for girl or
woman to turn out on some fine morning,
with her little work-basket, and sit
under an orange tree in the Tuileries
gardens, blest with air and sunshine,

* See Household Words, page 140 of the present volume.