for the clean bitter of the hops some deleterious drug, and then seek to hide the fraud by some cloying sweet.  There is nothing of this sickish drug in the Parson’s talk, nor was there in that of Jeremiah, I sometimes think there is scarcely enough of this wholesome tonic in modern society.  The Parson says he never would give a child sugar-coated pills.  Mandeville says he never would give them any.  After all, you cannot help liking Mandeville.

II

We were talking of this late news from Jerusalem.  The Fire-Tender was saying that it is astonishing how much is telegraphed us from the East that is not half so interesting.  He was at a loss philosophically to account for the fact that the world is so eager to know the news of yesterday which is unimportant, and so indifferent to that of the day before which is of some moment.

Mandeville.  I suspect that it arises from the want of imagination.  People need to touch the facts, and nearness in time is contiguity.  It would excite no interest to bulletin the last siege of Jerusalem in a village where the event was unknown, if the date was appended; and yet the account of it is incomparably more exciting than that of the siege of Metz.

Our next door.  The daily news is a necessity.  I cannot get along without my morning paper.  The other morning I took it up, and was absorbed in the telegraphic columns for an hour nearly.  I thoroughly enjoyed the feeling of immediate contact with all the world of yesterday, until I read among the minor items that Patrick Donahue, of the city of New York, died of a sunstroke.  If he had frozen to death, I should have enjoyed that; but to die of sunstroke in February seemed inappropriate, and I turned to the date of the paper.  When I found it was printed in July, I need not say that I lost all interest in it, though why the trivialities and crimes and accidents, relating to people I never knew, were not as good six months after date as twelve hours, I cannot say.

The fire-tender.  You know that in Concord the latest news, except a remark or two by Thoreau or Emerson, is the Vedas.  I believe the Rig-Veda is read at the breakfast-table instead of the Boston journals.

The parson.  I know it is read afterward instead of the Bible.

Mandeville.  That is only because it is supposed to be older.  I have understood that the Bible is very well spoken of there, but it is not antiquated enough to be an authority.

Our next door.  There was a project on foot to put it into the circulating library, but the title New in the second part was considered objectionable.

Herbert.  Well, I have a good deal of sympathy with Concord as to the news.  We are fed on a daily diet of trivial events and gossip, of the unfruitful sayings of thoughtless men and women, until our mental digestion is seriously impaired; the day will come when no one will be able to sit down to a thoughtful, well-wrought book and assimilate its contents.