nce and song of the
beautiful country. The horsecar is the poor man's private carriage, as
carefully fashioned for his convenience, as tidy and comfortable and
comely, as if it cost him hundreds of dollars, instead of the daily
sixpence. With a lifted finger he commands his coachman, who waits
promptly on his wish. Without care, he is cared for. Without capital, he
controls capital. Free society does more for him than the richest despot
does for the enslaved people whom the instinct of self-preservation
forces him to cajole, and does it, too, without any infringement upon
his manhood. We call it energy, enterprise, modern conveniences. It _is_
the millennium.

But these matters are under full headway. Science and self-interest have
taken them in hand, and there is no danger that they will not be carried
out to their farthest beneficial limits. There is another measure just
struggling into uncertain life,--a measure which may be helped by
attention, and hindered by neglect,--a measure that appeals less
directly to self-advantage, but which is yet so fraught with good or
evil, according as it is carefully studied, clearly understood, and
wisely managed, or suffered to fail through inattention, or to lead an
irregular, riotous life for a few years and then to be abated as a
nuisance, that we cannot safely pass it by. I refer to the movement
making itself felt in various ways, but aiming always to give more
leisure to the working classes. In one phase, it is seeking to reduce
the hours of daily labor; in another, it is trying to close the shops on
Saturday afternoons. In both, it is a step so radically in the right
direction, that we can but give thanks for the opportunity, while we
tremble lest it may not be firmly and wisely laid hold of. In planning
for human weal, one is met on every side by the want of leisure. Every
day and every hour comes so burdened with its material necessities, that
the wants of heart and mind and spirit can find no adequate
gratification. The work goes on satisfactorily; wealth accumulates;
farms are well tilled; mechanism becomes more and more exquisite; but
drunkenness, profligacy, stupidity, insanity, and crime undermine the
man, for whom all these things are and were created, and to whom they
ought to bring wisdom and power and peace. Thus our boasted improvements
become our folly. All labor-saving machinery that does not save labor in
the sense of giving leisure, that merely increases the q