opening of the hand but the process of
civilization--yes, my friends, the process of civilization? These
South Sea islanders have all that a kind Providence can bestow on
them; but that all is as nothing without education. That education
and that civilization it is for you to bestow upon them--yes, my
friends, for you; for you, citizens of Barchester as you are." And
then he paused again, in order that the feet and hands might go to
work. The feet and hands did go to work, during which Mr. Smith took
a slight drink of water. He was now quite in his element, and had
got into the proper way of punching the table with his fists. A few
words dropping from Mr. Sowerby did now and again find their way to
his ears, but the sound of his own voice had brought with it the
accustomed charm, and he ran on from platitude to truism, and from
truism back to platitude, with an eloquence that was charming to
himself.

"Civilization," he exclaimed, lifting up his eyes and hands to the
ceiling. "O Civilization--"

"There will not be a chance for us now for the next hour and a half,"
said Mr. Supplehouse, groaning. Harold Smith cast one eye down at
him, but it immediately flew back to the ceiling.

"O Civilization! thou that ennoblest mankind and makest him equal to
the gods, what is like unto thee?" Here Mrs. Proudie showed evident
signs of disapprobation, which no doubt would have been shared by
the bishop, had not that worthy prelate been asleep. But Mr. Smith
continued unobservant; or at any rate regardless. "What is like unto
thee? Thou art the irrigating stream which makest fertile the barren
plain. Till thou comest all is dark and dreary; but at thy advent the
noontide sun shines out, the earth gives forth her increase; the deep
bowels of the rocks render up their tribute. Forms which were dull
and hideous become endowed with grace and beauty, and vegetable
existence rises to the scale of celestial life. Then, too, Genius
appears clad in a panoply of translucent armour, grasping in his
hand the whole terrestrial surface, and making every rood of earth
subservient to his purposes;--Genius, the child of Civilization, the
mother of the Arts!" The last little bit, taken from the "Pedigree
of Progress," had a great success, and all Barchester went to work
with its hands and feet;--all Barchester, except that ill-natured
aristocratic front-row together with the three arm-chairs at the
corner of it. The aristocratic front row felt itse