happy, easy-going, international, editorial "We." New York and London,
Chicago and Sheffield, go drifting together through his thoughts, and
even Paris, glimmering faintly over there, and a dim round world, and he
asks, as the people of a world stream by, "_Where are WE going?_"

Thus it is that London, looming, teeming, world-suggesting, gets its
grip upon a man, a fresh American, and stretches him, stretches him
before his own eyes, makes him cosmopolitan, does his thinking for him.

* * * * *

There was a great sea to still his soul and lay down upon his spirit
that big, quiet roundness of the earth.

Nothing is quite the same after that wide strip of sea--sleeping out
there alone night by night--the gentle round earth sloping away down
from under one on both sides, in the midst of space.... Then, suddenly,
almost before one knows, that quiet Space still lingering round one,
perhaps one finds oneself thrust up out of the ground in the night into
that big yellow roar of Trafalgar Square.

And here are the swift sudden crowds of people, one's own fellow-men
hurrying past. One looks into the faces of the people hurrying past:
"_Where are we going?_" One looks at the stars: "WHERE ARE WE GOING?"

* * * * *

That night, when I was thrust up out of the ground and stood dazed in
the Square, I was told in a minute that this London where I was was a
besieged and conquered city. Some men had risen up in a day and said to