over again the same bubble which had already burst
under him.

'If I were a Christian,' said Lancelot, 'like you, I would call this
credit system of yours the devil's selfish counterfeit of God's
order of mutual love and trust; the child of that miserable dream,
which, as Dr. Chalmers well said, expects universal selfishness to
do the work of universal love. Look at your credit system, how--not
in its abuse, but in its very essence--it carries the seeds of self-
destruction. In the first place, a man's credit depends, not upon
his real worth and property, but upon his reputation for property;
daily and hourly he is tempted, he is forced, to puff himself, to
pretend to be richer than he is.'

The banker sighed and shrugged his shoulders. 'We all do it, my
dear boy.'

'I know it. You must do it, or be more than human. There is lie
the first, and look at lie the second. This credit system is
founded on the universal faith and honour of men towards men. But
do you think faith and honour can be the children of selfishness?
Men must be chivalrous and disinterested to be honourable. And you
expect them all to join in universal faith--each for his own selfish
interest? You forget that if that is the prime motive, men will be
honourable only as long as it suits that same self-interest.'

The banker shrugged his shoulders again.

'Yes, my dear uncle,' said Lancelot, 'you all forget it, though you
suffer for it daily and hourly; though the honourable men among you
complain of the stain which has fallen on the old chivalrous good
faith of English commerce, and say that now, abroad as well as at
home, an Englishman's word is no longer worth other men's bonds.
You see the evil, and you deplore it in disgust. Ask yourself
honestly, how can you battle against it, while you allow in
practice, and in theory too, except in church on Sundays, the very
falsehood from which it all springs?--that a man is bound to get
wealth, not for his country, but for himself; that, in short, not
patriotism, but selfishness, is the bond of all society.
Selfishness can collect, not unite, a herd of cowardly wild cattle,
that they may feed together, breed together, keep off the wolf and
bear together. But when one of your wild cattle falls sick, what
becomes of the corporate feelings of the herd then? For one man of
your class who is nobly helped by his fellows, are not the thousand
left behind to perish