s the cost
of the daily maintenance and refreshment of the laborer. You are wrong
in calling it the price of a sale. The workingman has sold nothing; he
knows neither his right, nor the extent of the concession which he has
made to you, nor the meaning of the contract which you pretend to
have made with him. On his side, utter ignorance; on yours, error and
surprise, not to say deceit and fraud.

Let us make this clearer by another and more striking example.

No one is ignorant of the difficulties that are met with in the
conversion of untilled land into arable and productive land. These
difficulties are so great, that usually an isolated man would perish
before he could put the soil in a condition to yield him even the most
meagre living. To that end are needed the united and combined efforts of
society, and all the resources of industry. M. Ch. Comte quotes on this
subject numerous and well-authenticated facts, little thinking that he
is amassing testimony against his own system.

Let us suppose that a colony of twenty or thirty families establishes
itself in a wild district, covered with underbrush and forests; and from
which, by agreement, the natives consent to withdraw. Each one of these
families possesses a moderate but sufficient amount of capital, of such
a nature as a colonist would be apt to choose,--animals, seeds, tools,
and a little money and food. The land having been divided, each one
settles himself as comfortably as possible, and begins to clear away the
portion allotted to him. But after a few weeks of fatigue, such as they
never before have known, of inconceivable suffering, of ruinous and
almost useless labor, our colonists begin to complain of their trade;
their condition seems hard to them; they curse their sad existence.

Suddenly, one of the shrewdest among them kills a pig, cures a part of
the meat; and, resolved to sacrifice the rest of his provisions, goes to
find his companions in misery. "Friends," he begins in a very benevolent
tone, "how much trouble it costs you to do a little work and live
uncomfortably! A fortnight of labor has reduced you to your last
extremity!... Let us make an arrangement by which you shall all profit.
I offer you provisions and wine: you shall get so much every day;
we will work together, and, zounds! my friends, we will be happy and
contented!"

Would it be possible for empty stomachs to resist such an invitation?
The hungriest of them follow the treacherous