was occupied by cars of all descriptions going this way and that.
They sounded soft horns as they went, but they bore no lights,
for the streets were as light as day with a radiance that seemed
to fall from beneath the eaves of all the buildings that lined
them. This effect of lighting had a curious result of making the
city look as if it were seen through glass or water--a
beautifully finished, clean picture, moving within itself like
some precise and elaborate mechanism.

He turned round at a touch on his arm.

"You would like to see the start, perhaps," said the old priest.
"We are a little late to-night. The country mails have only just
arrived. But we shall be off directly now. Come this way."

The upper deck, as the two turned inwards, presented an extremely
pleasant and reassuring picture. From stem to stern it ran clear,
set out, however, with groups of tables and chairs clamped to the
floor, at which sat a dozen parties or so, settling themselves
down comfortably. There were no funnels, no bridge, no break at
all to the delightful vista. The whole was lighted by the same
device as were the streets, for round the upper edges of the
transparent walls that held out the wind shone a steady, even
glow from invisible lights.

In the very centre of the deck, however, was a low railing
that protected the head of a staircase, and down this well
the two looked.

"Shall I explain?" asked the old priest, smiling. "This is