In the mean time, I return to my assertion, that in entering Canada from the States one clearly comes from a richer to a poorer country.  When I have said so, I have heard no Canadian absolutely deny it; though in refraining from denying it, they have usually expressed a general conviction, that in settling himself for life it is better for a man to set up his staff in Canada than in the States.  “I do not know that we are richer,” a Canadian says, “but on the whole we are doing better and are happier.”  Now, I regard the golden rules against the love of gold, the “aurum irrepertum et sic melius situm,” and the rest of it, as very excellent when applied to individuals.  Such teaching has not much effect, perhaps, in inducing men to abstain from wealth; but such effect as it may have will be good.  Men and women do, I suppose, learn to be happier when they learn to disregard riches.  But such a doctrine is absolutely false as regards a nation.  National wealth produces education and progress, and through them produces plenty of food, good morals, and all else that is good.  It produces luxury also, and certain evils attendant on luxury.  But I think it may be clearly shown, and that it is universally acknowledged, that national wealth produces individual well-being.  If this be so, the argument of my friend the Canadian is naught.

To the feeling of a refined gentleman, or of a lady whose eye loves to rest always on the beautiful, an agricultural population that touches its hat, eats plain victuals, and goes to church, is more picturesque and delightful than the thronged crowd of a great city, by which a lady and gentleman is hustled without remorse, which never touches its hat, and perhaps also never goes to church.  And as we are always tempted to approve of that which we like, and to think that that which is good to us is good altogether, we—­the refined gentlemen and ladies of England I mean—­are very apt to prefer the hat touchers to those who are not hat touchers.  In doing so we intend, and wish, and strive to be philanthropical.  We argue to ourselves that the dear excellent lower classes receive an immense amount of consoling happiness from that ceremony of hat touching, and quite pity those who, unfortunately for themselves, know nothing about it.  I would ask any such lady or gentleman whether he or she does not feel a certain amount of commiseration for the rudeness of the town-bred artisan who walks about with his hands in his pockets as though he recognized a superior in no one?

But that which is good and pleasant to us is often not good and pleasant altogether.  Every man’s chief object is himself; and the philanthropist should endeavor to regard this question, not from his own point of view, but from that which would be taken by the individuals for whose happiness he is anxious.  The honest, happy rustic makes a very pretty picture; and I hope that honest rustics are happy.  But the man who earns two shillings a day in the country