nursing little dirty boys, to listen to the ceaseless chatter of these
common urchins, and learn to deal with the great problem of the lowest
classes. And babies sat in their perambulators, thinking and sucking
india-rubber tubes. Dogs went before them, and nursemaids followed
after.

The spirit of colour was flying in the distant trees, swathing them with
brownish-purple haze; the sky was saffroned by dying sunlight. It was
such a day as brings a longing to the heart, like that which the moon
brings to the hearts of children.

Mr. Stone and Hilary sat down in the Broad Walk.

"Elm-trees!" said Mr. Stone. "It is not known when they assumed their
present shape. They have one universal soul. It is the same with man."
He ceased, and Hilary looked round uneasily. They were alone on the
bench.

Mr. Stone's voice rose again. "Their form and balance is their single
soul; they have preserved it from century to century. This is all they
live for. In those days"--his voice sank; he had plainly forgotten that
he was not alone--"when men had no universal conceptions, they would
have done well to look at the trees. Instead of fostering a number of
little souls on the pabulum of varying theories of future life, they
should have been concerned to improve their present shapes, and thus to
dignify man's single soul."

"Elms were always considered dangerous trees, I believe," said Hilary.

Mr. Stone turned, and, seeing his son-in-law beside him, asked: