“‘The philosopher of the half-educated,’ he was called by an academic Philosopher who was not worthy to pollute the atmosphere he breathed.  I don’t think you have read ten pages of Spencer, but there have been critics, assumably more intelligent than you, who have read no more than you of Spencer, who publicly challenged his followers to adduce one single idea from all his writings—­from Herbert Spencer’s writings, the man who has impressed the stamp of his genius over the whole field of scientific research and modern thought; the father of psychology; the man who revolutionized pedagogy, so that to-day the child of the French peasant is taught the three R’s according to principles laid down by him.  And the little gnats of men sting his memory when they get their very bread and butter from the technical application of his ideas.  What little of worth resides in their brains is largely due to him.  It is certain that had he never lived, most of what is correct in their parrot-learned knowledge would be absent.”

“And yet a man like Principal Fairbanks of Oxford—­a man who sits in an even higher place than you, Judge Blount—­has said that Spencer will be dismissed by posterity as a poet and dreamer rather than a thinker.  Yappers and blatherskites, the whole brood of them! ’"First Principles” is not wholly destitute of a certain literary power,’ said one of them.  And others of them have said that he was an industrious plodder rather than an original thinker.  Yappers and blatherskites!  Yappers and blatherskites!”

Martin ceased abruptly, in a dead silence.  Everybody in Ruth’s family looked up to Judge Blount as a man of power and achievement, and they were horrified at Martin’s outbreak.  The remainder of the dinner passed like a funeral, the judge and Mr. Morse confining their talk to each other, and the rest of the conversation being extremely desultory.  Then afterward, when Ruth and Martin were alone, there was a scene.

“You are unbearable,” she wept.

But his anger still smouldered, and he kept muttering, “The beasts!  The beasts!”

When she averred he had insulted the judge, he retorted:-

“By telling the truth about him?”

“I don’t care whether it was true or not,” she insisted.  “There are certain bounds of decency, and you had no license to insult anybody.”

“Then where did Judge Blount get the license to assault truth?” Martin demanded.  “Surely to assault truth is a more serious misdemeanor than to insult a pygmy personality such as the judge’s.  He did worse than that.  He blackened the name of a great, noble man who is dead.  Oh, the beasts!  The beasts!”