Mr. Chadband, at last seeing his opportunity, makes his accustomed signal and rises with a smoking head, which he dabs with his pocket-handkerchief.  Mrs. Snagsby whispers “Hush!”

“My friends,” says Chadband, “we have partaken in moderation” (which was certainly not the case so far as he was concerned) “of the comforts which have been provided for us.  May this house live upon the fatness of the land; may corn and wine be plentiful therein; may it grow, may it thrive, may it prosper, may it advance, may it proceed, may it press forward!  But, my friends, have we partaken of anything else?  We have.  My friends, of what else have we partaken?  Of spiritual profit?  Yes.  From whence have we derived that spiritual profit?  My young friend, stand forth!”

Jo, thus apostrophized, gives a slouch backward, and another slouch forward, and another slouch to each side, and confronts the eloquent Chadband with evident doubts of his intentions.

“My young friend,” says Chadband, “you are to us a pearl, you are to us a diamond, you are to us a gem, you are to us a jewel.  And why, my young friend?”

“I don’t know,” replies Jo.  “I don’t know nothink.”

“My young friend,” says Chadband, “it is because you know nothing that you are to us a gem and jewel.  For what are you, my young friend?  Are you a beast of the field?  No.  A bird of the air?  No.  A fish of the sea or river?  No.  You are a human boy, my young friend.  A human boy.  O glorious to be a human boy!  And why glorious, my young friend?  Because you are capable of receiving the lessons of wisdom, because you are capable of profiting by this discourse which I now deliver for your good, because you are not a stick, or a staff, or a stock, or a stone, or a post, or a pillar.

     “O running stream of sparkling joy
      To be a soaring human boy!

“And do you cool yourself in that stream now, my young friend?  No.  Why do you not cool yourself in that stream now?  Because you are in a state of darkness, because you are in a state of obscurity, because you are in a state of sinfulness, because you are in a state of bondage.  My young friend, what is bondage?  Let us, in a spirit of love, inquire.”

At this threatening stage of the discourse, Jo, who seems to have been gradually going out of his mind, smears his right arm over his face and gives a terrible yawn.  Mrs. Snagsby indignantly expresses her belief that he is a limb of the arch-fiend.

“My friends,” says Mr. Chadband with his persecuted chin folding itself into its fat smile again as he looks round, “it is right that I should be humbled, it is right that I should be tried, it is right that I should be mortified, it is right that I should be corrected.  I stumbled, on Sabbath last, when I thought with pride of my three hours’ improving.  The account is now favourably balanced:  my creditor has accepted a composition.  O let us be joyful, joyful!  O let us be joyful!”