or peculiarities of form that have been imposed on matter; and leave it, in the act and for the time, vacant of the elements of value. This result is reached in the consumption. of wealth.

There can be no use of wealth, without this change of form; while the merest change of form oftentimes answers all the conditions of consumption. This consumption may be for any purpose,-for luxury, wastefulness, or reproduction; may be within any time,-from the slow wear of the precious metals to a perishing that is almost simultaneous with the making; may be in any degree, from a total disappearance, as when wood is burned, to a change which the most practised eye can hardly detect.

In the economical sense, iron ore is consumed when it is wrought into chains and bars. These, again, are consumed when they are arranged into a bridge, though each may still retain its single shape. And, when the bridge has been worn out in time, it is said to be consumed, though it still remains as an element in all articles which have received value by carriage over it.

Each one of these changes is an act of consumption; and at each the character of the change determines the new state, and the result, both in individual or national wealth. At each, there is an application to a new purpose, and a new economical direction is imposed.

man.

While the iron remained in bars, it was liable to be wrought into a bridge, as it was; or into ploughs, for the tillage of the earth; or into weapons, for the destruction of When it was directed to one of these, a new object was produced it was consumed; not annihilated, but changed in its form and purpose. It is evident that the effects on society and on industry would be vastly different, as one or the other of these directions should be taken. The bridge itself might be used for facilitating commerce, or for transporting armies; and, in each case, the new application would be a consumption of the article, the new pro

duct and the new result in wealth being determined in the choice of uses to which it should be put.

The seed is consumed when it is planted in the ground to bring forth one hundred-fold. The cigar is consumed when it goes off in smoke.

Such consumption of wealth is constantly taking place in industrial society; and in this light we see the great importance of the principles which govern in this department: what momentous decisions are made at each change of the form imposed by labor on matter; how the wealth of the world goes up or down, with the new direction given it. Although such consumption comes far more slowly in some instances than in others, and seems at times to be indefinitely delayed, yet it is true that wealth has its generations, like the race of man; that, in so long a time, all the present accumulations of labor will have expended themselves; and that upon the provision made for reproduction will depend the condition of the future. The world might be stocked full of useful and precious goods, yet become seedy in ten years, and beggarly within the life of man. And not only is the change of form and the new direction of vital importance; but it is made so frequently, in such multitudinous ways, often so silently and unobserved, always with so much of complication and uncertainty, that the principles which should control it have an interest at once, and a difficulty beyond those which belong to any other part of political economy.

It would be impossible to give a catalogue of all the distinct acts of consumption that take place in the narrowest field and in the shortest time. It might be even impossible to decide distinctly when any one of them actually began. or ended; so that, if the science depended on determining them accurately, we should be forced to close our inquiries at once, as useless. No eye can detect their processes; no thought can reach down to the real spring of economical life. But we can find in the general results, as they come

out in national or individual experience, enough for practical instruction and guidance.

We cannot see the grain grow, or fix its daily increments; yet we know the fact of its growth, and can study the conditions of its best development. So we cannot mark the periods of wealth, or note its phases; yet in its great harvests we can see the kindness or unkindness of the soil, the refreshing of the showers, or the parching of the drouth.

To employ a figure: Exchange and distribution form the trunk of the tree, between the two branching worlds, above and below. Through that narrow compact body passes all that the intricate web of roots has to give, the product of their silent, humble work; all that the interlacing limbs and boughs, more fortunate and conspicuous, have to spend. Below is the world of production, where myriad agencies. appropriate and assimilate the properties of the soil. Above is the world of consumption, where is given off, in every variety of foliage and flower and fruit, of use and beauty, what has been long and patiently gathered.

The consumption of wealth may be regarded as of four kinds,—mistaken, luxurious, public, and reproductive. We shall speak of them in that order.

CHAPTER II.

1. MISTAKEN CONSUMPTION.

WHAT shall we do with that large class of industrial actions which bring no reward to those who perform them?

We find labor and capital applied with the purpose of reproduction, but without result. And this not occasionally; but the share of failures can almost be determined with certainty, and is found to bear no inconsiderable proportion to business enterprise the world over. Indeed, in some occupations, entire success forms the exception.

These cases of mistaken industry would present very few questions but for the secondary uses to which we sometimes find them applied. Gibbon describes the towers, citadels, and palaces of Rome as built on the foundations of the ancient temples, theatres, and arches. We can draw a figure thence to our modern industry. The fortunes of one generation often rise from the failures of that which went before. If we trace the history of many of the most flourishing establishments, we shall find them resting at last on some great outlay of capital, or expenditure of labor, that ruined some man or corporation, and finally went to pay taxes or office rent. Such has been the fate of many of the railroads of the United States; so much so, that it has passed into a proverb that such stock must be sunk once to pay at all. A railroad is established, starts with brilliant prospects, and, after a descending course for a few years, arrives at bankruptcy. Even so, when the stock can be had for nothing, it may not pay for running, and lies idle, or half run. But perhaps the industry of the country takes a sudden start, or pushes up gradually, finds the old track there, and demands that its goods be carried to market. The experiment is made; and soon the road is worked to its utmost capacity, enriching holders, who had forgotten the existence of their stock.

The same thing occurs frequently in the course of individual enterprises. Men undertake great matters, launch into immense expenses, and, after sinking the full amount of their capital and credit, stop hopelessly. The works stand idle and melancholy for years, till some new industry or some shrewder manager takes them at half cost or for nothing, and gets a fortune out of them.

When one of the later emperors would build a monument of his achievements, he was forced to use fragments of older architecture; and so, history tells us, the head of Trajan frowned from the arch of Constantine. Many a modern fortune is pieced out of the wreck of earlier industry.

This, of course, presents only the best view of such mistaken investments. There are cases where industry, instead of coming back to re-animate the lifeless body by sudden movements, forsakes even the habitations it has delighted in; and the machinery of to-day becomes old-fashioned and useless under the surprising inventions of to-morrow. Every locality has its "folly," named from some helpless adventurer, who undertook more than he could carry, and which has reached a death from which there is no resurrection. Long lines of railroad stretch across the country, forsaken, apparently for ever, of passengers or freight. Mills and factories stand tenantless till they crumble. These only enumerate the gigantic failures of industry; while the amount of labor and capital misapplied in ordinary ways is beyond computation. The three causes for these industrial misadventures are as follows:

1st, Capital is fallible in its calculations. Plausible schemes, based on views that are partial or temporary, draw even the ablest financiers into such investments. It would be out of reason that such errors should not be committed, even with the keen scent of personal advantage and trained observation.

2d, Extravagance is, however, the prime cause of business failure. Men, in originating enterprises, sanguine in feeling, and exhilarated by the possession of large capital, almost invariably indulge in a scale of outlay which the return does not justify. They find it unpleasant or undignified to omit any thing from the completeness of preparation out of considerations of economy. The result is, that the expense of starting drags on them through the whole course, and perhaps ruins them. They are kept down all the time by the original outlay, and often have to vacate their magnificent establishments for the entrance of parties who, getting them at half price, can afford to keep and work them.

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3d, Another reason is found in those accidents or great