| Title | The Ragged Trousered Philanthropists |
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| Page | 582 |
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| Chapter | -- |
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much as any one of them and his pile of wealth continually increased. In a little while - reckoning the little squares at their market value of one pound each - he was worth about one hundred pounds, and the working classes were still in the same condition as when they began, and were still tearing into their work as if their lives depended upon it. After a while the rest of the crowd began to laugh, and their merriment increased when the kind-hearted capitalist, just after having sold a pound's worth of necessaries to each of his workers, suddenly took their tools - the Machinery of Production - the knives away from them, and informed them that as owing to Over Production all his store-houses were glutted with the necessaries of life, he had decided to close down the works. `Well, and wot the bloody 'ell are we to do now?' demanded Philpot. `That's not my business,' replied the kind-hearted capitalist. `I've paid you your wages, and provided you with Plenty of Work for a long time past. I |
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