to produce a scene that serves to emphasize the beauty of the shores.
Underneath this enchanting scene of variegated beauty we discover the
fundamental fact that man is a gregarious animal, that he not only
craves association with his kind but that playing with them brings him
into more harmonious communion with them. In their play they meet upon
the plane of a common purpose and are thus unified in spirit. Hence, all
this beauty and gayety is serving a beneficent purpose in the way of
gratifying the inherent desire of mankind for social intercourse.

=The travel instinct.=--At Charing Cross the commerce drama is
reënacted, only here with trains instead of boats, and, mainly, people
instead of merchandise. Here we see hurry and bustle, and hear the
shriek of the engine and the warning blast of the guard. Trains are
going out, trains are coming in. When the people step out upon the
platforms, they seem to know exactly whither they are bound. There are
porters all about to help them achieve their desires, and cabs stand
ready at the curb to do their bidding. Here is human commerce, and the
trains are the answer to the call of the human family to see their own
and other lands. These trains are swifter and more agreeable for nomads
than the camel of the desert or the Conestoga wagon of the prairie. The
nomadic instinct pulls and pushes people away from their own door-yards;
hence railways, trains, engines, air brakes, telegraph lines, wireless
apparatuses, and all the many other devices that the mind of man has
designed at the behest of this desire to roam about.

=Monuments.=--Further down the Thames we see Greenwich, which regulates
the clocks for the whole world, and furnishes the sea captain the
talisman by which he may know where he is. Over against St. Paul's is
the Bank of England, which for long years ruled the finances of the
world. Yonder is the Museum, the conservator of the ages. There is the