itself that the gift will be of real service to him who receives it. It constitutes an undercurrent of spontaneous and natural charity, the depth and force of which is seldom realised because it flows unseen. It keeps in motion some of the most essential machinery of the social organism, and generates, so to speak, a repairing force of enormous potency. It has its perennial springs in all that is best in human nature, and flows weaker or stronger as these springs rise or fall.
It manifests itself chiefly in the mutual affection and helpfulness of family life; after that in the sympathy of friend and friend, neighbour and neighbour, employer and employed. It comes into play quite naturally and when it is most required; there is no compulsion, no ostentation or shadow of unworthy motive on the part of the giver, whilst it can be accepted without loss of self-respect. This sort of silent charity pervades all our social relations, and tends to fill up their gaps almost insensibly. Parents support their children in infancy, and children help their parents in sickness and old age. Relations less closely connected help one another to an enormous extent. Who is there who would allow a relation to go to the wall if he could do anything to prevent it? The charity of poor neighbours to one another is proverbial. The "friendly lead" is the commonest feature of the workshop. Every friendly society has its benevolent funds. There are all sorts of social ties or "clannishness" too various for enumeration—membership of the same profession, inhabitancy of the same village or country town, old schoolfellowship or membership of the same college, all of which cement a mutual obligation to help in time of need.
With regard to employer and employed, it is often the fashion to say that the old feelings of mutual respect and affection have disappeared, and
