Before the end of the autumn she had sent up to Mr. Acton some lovely
little groups of children, illustrating Wordsworth's poems. She had
been taught anatomy enough to make her work superior to that of most
women, and Mr. Acton found no difficulty in disposing of them to a
porcelain manufactory, to be copied in Parian, bringing in a sum that
made her feel rich.
Vistas opened before her sanguine eyes of that clay educating her son
for the Magnum Bonum, her great thought. Her boys must be brought up
to be worthy of the quest, high-minded, disinterested, and devoted,
as well as intellectual and religious. So said their father; and
thus the Magnum Bonum had become very nearly a religion to her,
giving her a definite aim and principle.
Unfortunately there was not much in her present surroundings to lead
her higher. The vicar, Mr. Rigby, was a dull, weak man, of a worn-
out type, a careful visitor of the sick and poor, but taking little
heed to the educated, except as subscribers and Sunday-school
teachers. Carey had done little in the first capacity, Janet had
refused to act in the latter.
His sermons were very sleepy performances, except for a tendency to
jumble up metaphors, that kept the audience from the Folly just awake
enough to watch for them.
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