il in their extensions of the
poultry-run. And having started them upon these lines, it left them to
get along as best they might.

Thus, in the subdivision of the poultry-run that we call England, the
proportion of the others to the complete male-bird spirit, who, of
course, is not infrequently a woman, is ninety-nine to one; and
with every Island Pharisee, when he or she starts out in life, the
interesting question ought to be, "Am I that one?" Ninety very soon
find out that they are not, and, having found it out, lest others should
discover, they say they are. Nine of the other ten, blinded by their
spiritual courage, are harder to convince; but one by one they sink,
still proclaiming their virility. The hundredth Pharisee alone sits out
the play.

Now, the journey of this young man Shelton, who is surely not the
hundredth Pharisee, is but a ragged effort to present the working of the
truth "All things that are, are wrong," upon the truth "All things that
are, are right."

The Institutions of this country, like the Institutions of all other
countries, are but half-truths; they are the working daily clothing of
the nation; no more the body's permanent dress than is a baby's frock.
Slowly but surely they wear out, or are outgrown; and in their fashion
they are always thirty years at least behind the fashions of those
spirits who are concerned with what shall take their place. The
conditions that dictate our education, the distribution of our property,
our marriage laws, amusements, worship, prisons, and all other things,
change imperceptibly from hour to hour; the moulds containing them,
being inelastic, do not change, but hold on to the point of bursting,
and then are hastily, often clumsily, enlarged. The ninety desiring
peace and comfort for their spirit, the ninety of the well-warmed beds,
will have it that the fashions need not change, that morality is fixed,
that all is ordered and immutable, that every one will always marry,
play, and worship in the way that they themselves are marrying, playing,
worshipping. They have no speculation, and they hate with a deep hatred
those who speculate with thought. This is the function they were made
for. They are the dough, and they dislike that yeasty stuff of life
which comes and works about in them. The Yeasty Stuff--the other
ten--chafed by all things that are, desirous ever of new forms and
moulds, hate in their turn the comfortable ninety. Each party has
invented fo