pth. His comparative
silence as to his religion precisely the healthiest sign of him and
it. Methodism, Dilettantism, Puseyism. (144.)

Chap. XVI. _St. Edmund._

Abbot Samson built many useful, many pious edifices: ALL ruinous,
incomplete things an eye-sorrow to him. Rebuilding the great Altar: A
glimpse of the glorious Martyr's very Body. What a scene; how far
vanished from us, in these unworshipping ages of ours! The manner of
men's Hero-worship, verily the innermost fact of their existence,
determining all the rest. (p. 148.)--On the whole, who knows how to
reverence the Body of Man? Abbot Samson, at the culminating point of
his existence: Our real-phantasmagory of St. Edmundsbury plunges into
the bosom of the Twelfth Century again, and all is over. (154.)

Chap. XVII. _The Beginnings._

Formulas the very skin and muscular tissue of a Man's Life: Living
Formulas and dead. Habit the deepest law of human nature. A pathway
through the pathless. Nationalities. Pulpy infancy, kneaded, baked
into any form you choose: The Man of Business; the hard-handed
Labourer; the genus Dandy. No Mortal out of the depths of Bedlam but
lives by Formulas. (p. 157.)--The hosts and generations of brave men
Oblivion has swallowed: Their crumbled dust, the soil our life-fruit
grows on. Invention of Speech, Forms of Worship; Methods of Justice.
This English Land, here and now, the summary of what was wise and
noble, and accordant with God's Truth, in all the generations of
English Men. The thing called 'Fame.' (161.)

BOOK III--THE MODERN WORKER.

Chap. I. _Phenomena._

How men have 'forgotten God;' taken the Fact of this Universe as it
_is not_, God's Laws become a Greatest-Happiness Principle, a
Parliamentary Expediency. Man has lost the _soul_ out of him, and
begins to find the want of it. (p. 171.)--The old Pope of Rome, with
his stuffed dummy to do the kneeling for him. Few men that worship by
the rotatory Calabash, do it in half so great, frank or effectual a
way. (173.)--Our Aristocracy no longer able to _do_ its work, and not
in the least conscious that it has any work to do. The Champion of
England 'lifted into his saddle.' The Hatter in the Strand, mounting a
huge lath-and-plaster Hat. Our noble ancestors have fashioned for us,
in how many thousand senses, a 'life-road;' and we their sons are
madly, literally enough, 'consuming the way.' (175.)

Chap. II. _Gospel of Mammonism._

Heaven and Hell, often as the