"England is your country?" asked Frances.
"Yes."
"And you don't like it?"
"I'd be sorry to like it! A little corrupt, venal, lord-and-king-cursed nation, full of mucky pride (as they say in ———shire), and helpless pauperism; rotten with abuses, worm-eaten with prejudices!"
"You might say so of almost every state; there are abuses and prejudices everywhere, and I thought fewer in England than in other countries."
"Come to England and see. Come to Birmingham and Manchester; come to St. Giles in London, and get a practical notion of how our system works. Examine the foot-prints of our august aristocracy; see how they walk in blood, crushing hearts as they go. Just put your head in at English cottage doors; get a glimpse of Famine crouched torpid on black hearth-stones; of Disease lying bare on beds without coverlets; of Infamy wantoning viciously with Ignorance,
