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Updated: May 11, 2025
Hardcap's I find a big family Bible, and half a dozen of those made up volumes fat with thick paper and large type, and showy with poor pictures, which constitute the common literature of two thirds of our country homes. And I know that poor Mr. Hardcap is the unfortunate victim of book agents.
"I don't believe in no kind of fiction, nohow," said Mr. Hardcap, emphatically. "What we want is facts, Mr. Laicus-hard facts. That's what I was brought up on when I was a boy, and that's what I mean to bring my boys up on." I thought of Mr. Gradgrind, but said nothing. "Yes," said Mr. Hardcap, half soliloquizing, "there is Charles Dickens.
But I will not pay a cent unless the whole is paid. The minister must be provided for." "I say so, too," murmured Mr. Hardcap. I was surprised at this sudden and unexpected reinforcement. The Deacon told me afterwards, that Mr. Hardcap had been repairing the parson's roof and had not got his pay.
It is as if one being sick, should go to the apothecary's shop, and beginning on one side, go right down the store taking in due order every pill, potion, and powder, till he was cured-or killed." Mr. Hardcap shook his head resolutely. "Is it not true," said he, "that all Scripture is profitable?" "Yes," said I, "but not that it is all equally profitable for all occasions.
I could not refrain from asking. But Mr. Hardcap did not answer. Mr. Gear Again. OUR Bible class at the Mill has prospered greatly. Mr. Gear was better than his word. The first Sabbath he brought in over a dozen of his young men; the half dozen who were already in the Sabbath School joined us of course. Others have followed.
Gear.: And what do you say as to that point he makes about Paul's preaching as a candidate, Mr. Hardcap? Mr. Hardcap.: Oh! that's different, altogether-very different. The apostle was inspired, Mr. Gear. I notice that this is a very popular style of argument with Mr. Hardcap. Whenever he is posed in argument his never failing rejoinder is "Oh! that's different, altogether different."
There are half-a-dozen farmers in our Wheathedge congregation who don't handle fifteen hundred dollars in money from one year's end to the other. Mr. Hardcap isn't the only man to whom it seems a big sum to pay. Mr. Lapstone the shoemaker, Mrs. Croily the seamstress, Joe Hodgkins the blacksmith, and half-a-dozen others I could name, have to live on less. And you must remember their incomes, Mr.
That's altogether different." "What is the difference?" said I. "Oh! well," said he, "that's altogether different. I suppose it is fictitious; but then it's altogether different. It's a allegory." "Now I don't approve," continued Mr. Hardcap, without explaining himself any further, "of our modern Sunday-school libraries. I have complained a good deal, but it's no use.
I might as well try to explain to a North American Indian the cost and the value of a modern cotton mill as the cost and the value of student tools to Mr. Hardcap. But I believe I produced some impression on the others. Deacon Goodsole still pondered my figures. "I never thought of the cost of minister's tool before," said he. "It's quite an item." "Well," said Mr.
So, in substance, said James Wheaton, Esq., Chairman Board of Trustees, etc., etc.; and so, in substance, said they all. Even Mr. Hardcap acquiesced, though with a mild protest against modern extravagance. "Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Wheaton, "this is just what I expected; yes, let me say, just what I was sure of. In fact, I told Mr.
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