mosaic floor. From above the radiance of the gas "sunlight"
streamed down over the marble pillars, and glanced on gilded
cornices and panels of scagliola. A statue of the Queen looked
upon him from the niche that opened to the dining-room; another
of the great Puritan soldier, statesman, and ruler, with his
stern massive front; and yet another, with the strong yet gentle
features of the champion Free-Trader, seemed to regard him from
their several corners. On the walls around were portraits of men
who had striven for the deliverance of the people from ancient
yokes and fetters. Of course Ginx's Baby did not see all this.
He, poor boy, dazed, stood with a knuckle in his eye, while the
porter, lackeys, Sir Charles Sterling, and others who strolled
out of the reading-room, curiously regarded him. But any one
observing the scene apart might have contrasted the place with
the child--the principles and the professions whereof this
grandeur was the monument and consecrated tabernacle, with this
solitary atomic specimen of the material whereon they were to
work. What social utility had resulted from the great movements
initiated by them who erected and frequented this place? Ought
they to have had, and did they still need a complement? While
wonderful political changes had been wrought, and benefits not to
be exaggerated won for many classes, WHAT HAD BEEN DONE FOR
GINX'S BABY?

The query would not have been very ridiculous. He was an unit of
the British Empire--nothing could blot out that fact before
heaven! Had anything been left undone that ought to have been
done, or done that had well been left undone, or were better to
be undone now? Of a truth that was worth a thought.