with the consent of the victims. When any one found himself
useless, unnecessary to the world, or unhappy in it--"

"Humbug and nonsense," said Mr. Copperhead. "A likely thing for anybody
to do. No, it is not a question for law-making. Let 'em die out
naturally, that's my opinion. Don't do anything to hurry 'em--that is, I
don't see my way to it; but let 'em go quiet, and don't bring 'em
cordials and feather-beds, and all that middyeval nonsense, to keep 'em
going as long as possible. It's wicked, that's what it is."

"At all events," said Mr. May, who, poor man, was bent on pleasing, "it
is refreshing to hear opinions so bold and original. Something new is
always a blessing. I cannot say I agree with you--"

"No parson would be bold enough for that. Christianity's been a capital
thing for the world," said Mr. Copperhead, "I don't say a word against
it; but in these go-ahead days, sir, we've had enough of it, that's to
say when it's carried too far. All this fuss about the poor, all the row
about dragging up a lot of poor little beggars to live that had far
better die, and your almshouses to keep the old ones going, past all
nature! Shovel the mould over them, that's the thing for the world; let
'em die when they ought to die; and let them live who can live--that's
my way of thinking--and what's more, I'm right."

"What a fine thing for you, Mr. Clarence," cried Phoebe, "who are going
into Parliament! to take up your father's idea and work it out. What a
speech you could make on the subject! I saw a hospital once in Paris
that would make such a wonderful illustration. I'll tell you about it if
you like. Poor old wretched people whose life was nothing but
wretchedness kept going, kept living for years and years--why, no one
could tell; for I am sure it would have been better, far better for them
to die and be done with it. What a speech you might make when you bring
a bill into Parliament to abolish almshouses and all sorts of
charities!" she added with a laugh, turning from Clarence, at whom she
had been looking,