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"Oh, pshaw! pshaw! Haddock, you're always for doing things for the town, just as you build your own stone walls. You don't care what money it takes, if the work will only stand. Now towns are different from individuals, you see. A man can do as he pleases with his own matters, but the town must manage just to keep along from year to year -- doing the best it can under all the circumstances. Ain't it so, Squire Ben?"

"Rather of -- that is -- my notion is, something so -- something so -- yes, a little so," said the Squire, throwing a side glance from the floor to Haddock, and from Haddock to the ceiling, and from the ceiling to Savage, and so resting again on the floor. Now the Squire was a very sensible man, and except in cases where he performed popular duty, he was a sort of Haddock-man himself, making every thing substantial and secure. Popular favor! How small a matter this. Yet Squire Ben Stout was too weak to resist it. As for Savage, he gloried in a set of principles that looked to popularity among the people as their great object.

"I brought up the little Bear Bridge," said Haddock, by way, merely, of example. "You don't yield the point there, and probably you won't in the case of the paupers. Now I am of the opinion that we must adopt a more merciful, truly benevolent, thorough, and, in the end, more economical way of supporting them. I want you to look at it with your eyes all open, and decide as candid men what we should do. Let us decide first on the principle. What is our duty to these poor creatures. What can they reasonably claim of us. Then we shall come easily, or at least understandingly, to the question of 'ways and means.'"

"You want, Mr. Haddock, that the town should saddle itself with a debt of five thousand dollars or vote a tax to meet it, just to put these old crazy coots, lying old devils, half of them, into a brick palace, and furnish waiters for them, and pay even something to boot, instead of pursuing the present economical and humane course that we have followed ever since the town had a pauper. How, in the name of reason, can you advocate so preposterous a plan? It's idle. Haddock, perfectly idle. Five thousand dollars! Good heavens! Haddock, why, you're crazy. Do you think. Squire Ben, that Crampton folks will ever come to that, hey?"

"I --- consider that ---"

"One minute, Squire, if you please," interrupted Mr. Haddock.

"Let the Squire speak." interrupted Savage, in his turn.

"Oh, to be sure, I only wanted to say ----"

"Time enough to say it when Squire Ben's got through. This subject is a confounded bore any way---"

"But we ought not to dodge it -- we can't dodge it. I know," said Haddock, "that this town has got a conscience; and I am determined to let the town have all the light I can, to operate on that conscience. We have a system of pauperage that is a disgrace to us. And to defend and to perpetuate it is an outrage."

Haddock was usually mild, but if he was crowded he could storm some as well as Savage; as for Squire Ben, he never stormed. He hesitated to commit himself irretrievably any way -- but always went with his party at least in hypothesis. Before Savage could reply, therefore. Squire Ben lifted his right foot from the floor, and resting it on his left knee, leaned forward with a finger pointing towards Haddock, as indicating the course of his reply, and an eye resting on Savage (who was ready with town retrenchment argument to overwhelm Haddock) as if he were the party to profit by his observations, and said at once --

"The town, Haddock, is one thing, conscience is another thing, and -- we know it -- we all understand it -- the poor another, or a third thing. Now, we must take care of the poor. That's principle -- ain't it. Mr. Savage?"

"Sartain," said Savage.

"Just so," said Squire Ben. "We must do that thing. And so conscience and principle go together. Now we -- don't need, Haddock, any -- that is, any considerable -- more light on that point you see -- for we are all posted up -- square up on the point of duty and principle -- morals and religion, and so forth. Now the next great question is, the money!"

"That's it, that's it, by thunder!" said Savage -- "the money."

"Well, there's money enough," said Haddock, "where there's a will."

"But there ain't a will," fiercely said Savage.

"You see, gentlemen," said the Squire, "the times are hard!"

"Cursedly hard!" said Savage.

"They are hard on the paupers, I know," said Haddock.

"Well, gentlemen, consider," said the Squire, "that the town must pay as it goes along. Now it is just as much as the voters will come up to, to raise a poor tax of four per cent. That's the most we've ever got; and that gives us eight hundred. Now we've fifteen poor folks, lacking the last death -- Joe Harnden -- and winter's at hand, when there'll be, probably, four or five more, and some half-pays about town in families. It -- seems to me, gentlemen -- that -- our course of duty lies just here. Hem! I think we should tell Bunce to give the paupers an extra allowance of cider in winter, a little more fire, a good substantial dinner of cheapish sort of food -- of course?"