"But what are you going to do with them in the country? The squatter and farmer don't want them."
"I'd bind them together, maintaining them for the cost of their house-rent in town. Then put them in the way of cultivating the soil and supporting themselves otherwise."
"But these men, who are 'on strike' wherever they get a chance, are not going to work for their 'tucker,'" objected Tom.
"Yes, they will," observed Frank Brown, "if they see a prospect of ultimately winning by their industry a home and independence for themselves and their children."
"What do they care for that?" growled the little man.
"Everything," continued the clergyman. "Scratch the Englishman, wherever he lives, and you find the farmer beneath the surface, and the earth-hunger in his breast."
"And a lot of good it does him!"
"It makes him the colonizing creature of the world. Leads him to cross seas, subdue wildernesses, make gardens of howling deserts, and ports for the commerce of England on every shore," said the cleric.
"But you have not stuff to deal with like that. The race is degenerate. Your men are loafers."
"You should have seen them at the doctor's meeting the other day. You should have noted the eager, intelligent manner in which they received his suggestions," continued the clergyman, warmly.
"Where were the idlers I see gathering on waste lands beside your streets and lounging in your parks?" asked Tom.
"Not there," replied Frank. "Our scheme has no attraction for them. They like relief works, so much a
