"In the half-century that followed the Great Change," said Morsom,
"it began to be noteworthy; machine after machine was quietly dropped
under the excuse that the machines could not produce works of art,
and that works of art were more and more called for. Look here," he
said, "here are some of the works of that time--rough and unskilful
in handiwork, but solid and showing some sense of pleasure in the
making."

"They are very curious," said I, taking up a piece of pottery from
amongst the specimens which the antiquary was showing us; "not a bit
like the work of either savages or barbarians, and yet with what
would once have been called a hatred of civilisation impressed upon
them."

"Yes," said Morsom, "you must not look for delicacy there: in that
period you could only have got that from a man who was practically a
slave. But now, you see," said he, leading me on a little, "we have
learned the trick of handicraft, and have added the utmost refinement
of workmanship to the freedom of fancy and imagination."

I looked, and wondered indeed at the deftness and abundance of beauty
of the work of men who had at last learned to accept life itself as a
pleasure, and the satisfaction of the common needs of mankind and the
preparation for them, as work fit for the best of the race. I mused
silently; but at last I said -

"What is to come after this?"

The old man laughed. "I don't know," said he; "we will meet it when
it comes."