parochial experience in the East of London, and now in his new but poor parish, developed into what he termed an "Eclectic" or a "Philosophical Radical."
"No one objects to your being comfortable, doctor," he interjected. "You do not try to eat two dinners at the same time, and to waste three men's shares of the good things of this life; but why may not all be better off? Why must these poor fellows of mine experience such a struggle just to live? Surely God has made this world capable of supporting millions more than now cumber it."
"Partly of their own fault," began the doctor.
"Entirely, say I," put in the little man. "Divide your pipes and tobacco of all kinds to-morrow—and you'll need another distribution next week."
"We have heard that before, Tom," continued the doctor. "It is partly men's own fault that the wolf is always at some doors, that you can never drive him far from certain portals, but it is chiefly the result of our social system."
"We've heard that before," suggested the little man.
"The principle of competition, that dominates our commercial and social life, involves that the weaker go to the wall. The labourers are the weaker. The strongest among them compete with each other until they drag each other down to a common condition of helplessness."
"But their Labour Unions and Standards of Wages," suggested Tom, "are supposed to keep up prices and check the effects of competition."
"And you know full well that those are not only extreme measures, disastrous in their consequences, but that they are artificial devices opposed to the nature of things."
