Y.M. Work it out yourself. Proceed.
O.M. Suppose I turn upon one of them a steam-jet
during a long succession of hours. Will there
be a result?
Y.M. None that I know of.
O.M. Why?
Y.M. A steam-jet cannot break down such a substance.
O.M. Very well. The steam is an outside
influence, but it is ineffective because the
gold takes no interest in it.
The ingot remains as it was. Suppose we add
to the steam some quicksilver in a vaporized condition,
and turn the jet upon the ingot, will there be an
instantaneous result?
Y.M. No.
O.M. The quicksilver is an outside influence
which gold (by its peculiar nature—say
temperament, disposition) cannot be
indifferent to. It stirs up the interest
of the gold, although we do not perceive it; but a
single application of the influence works no
damage. Let us continue the application in a
steady stream, and call each minute a year. By
the end of ten or twenty minutes—ten or
twenty years—the little ingot is sodden
with quicksilver, its virtues are gone, its character
is degraded. At last it is ready to yield to
a temptation which it would have taken no notice of,
ten or twenty years ago. We will apply that temptation
in the form of a pressure of my finger. You
note the result?
Y.M. Yes; the ingot has crumbled to sand.
I understand, now. It is not the single
outside influence that does the work, but only the
last one of a long and disintegrating accumulation
of them. I see, now, how my single impulse
to rob the man is not the one that makes me do it,
but only the last one of a preparatory series.
You might illustrate with a parable.
O.M. I will. There was once a pair of
New England boys—twins. They were
alike in good dispositions, feckless morals, and personal
appearance. They were the models of the Sunday-school.
At fifteen George had the opportunity to go as cabin-boy
in a whale-ship, and sailed away for the Pacific.
Henry remained at home in the village. At eighteen
George was a sailor before the mast, and Henry was
teacher of the advanced Bible class. At twenty-two
George, through fighting-habits and drinking-habits
acquired at sea and in the sailor boarding-houses of
the European and Oriental ports, was a common rough
in Hong-Kong, and out of a job; and Henry was superintendent
of the Sunday-school. At twenty-six George was
a wanderer, a tramp, and Henry was pastor of the village
church. Then George came home, and was Henry’s
guest. One evening a man passed by and turned
down the lane, and Henry said, with a pathetic smile,
“Without intending me a discomfort, that man
is always keeping me reminded of my pinching poverty,
for he carries heaps of money about him, and goes
