t them in division one.'

'Yes, I know. You see, that's the proper place for them. They belong
to a Loafer class. They are no better mentally or morally than any of
the other loafers in that division; neither are they of any more use.
Of course, when we consider them in relation to the amount they consume
of the things produced by others, they are not so harmful as the other
loafers, because they consume comparatively little. But all the same
they are in their right place in that division. All those people don't
get the same share. The section represents not individuals--but the
loafer class.'

'But I thought you said you was goin' to prove that money was the cause
of poverty,' said Easton.

'So it is,' said Owen. 'Can't you see that it's money that's caused
all these people to lose sight of the true purpose of labour--the
production of the things we need? All these people are suffering from
the delusion that it doesn't matter what kind of work they do--or
whether they merely do nothing--so long as they get MONEY for doing it.
Under the present extraordinary system, that's the only object they
have in view--to get money. Their ideas are so topsy-turvey that they
regard with contempt those who are engaged in useful work! With the
exception of criminals and the poorer sort of loafers, the working
classes are considered to be the lowest and least worthy in the
community. Those who manage to get money for doing something other
than productive work are considered more worthy of respect on that
account. Those who do nothing themselves, but get money out of the
labour of others, are regarded as being more worthy still! But the
ones who are esteemed most of all and honoured above all the rest, are
those who obtain money for doing absolutely nothing!'

'But I can't see as that proves that money is the cause of poverty,'
said Easton.

'Look here,' said Owen. 'The people in number four produce everything,
don't they?'

'Yes; we knows all about that,' interrupted Harlow. 'But they gets
paid for it, don't they? They gets their wages.'

'Yes, and what does their wages consist of?' said Owen.

'Why, money, of course,' replied Harlow, impatiently.

And what do they do with their money when they get it? Do they eat it,
or drink it, or wear it?'

At this apparently absurd question several of those who had hitherto
been attentive listeners laughed derisively; it was really very
difficult to listen patiently to