theirs; and that we
choose to have water, not only to wash with, but to play with, if we
like. And I believe--for the world, as you will find, is full not only
of just but of generous souls--that if the water-supply were set really
right, there would be found, in many a city, many a generous man who,
over and above his compulsory water-rate, would give his poor
fellow-townsmen such a real fountain as those which ennoble the great
square at Carcasonne and the great square at Nismes; to be "a thing of
beauty and a joy for ever."

And now, if you want to go back to your Latin and Greek, you shall
translate for me into Latin--I do not expect you to do it into Greek,
though it would turn very well into Greek, for the Greeks knew all about
the matter long before the Romans--what follows here; and you shall
verify the facts and the names, &c., in it from your dictionaries of
antiquity and biography, that you may remember all the better what it
says. And by that time, I think, you will have learnt something more
useful to yourself, and, I hope, to your country hereafter, than if you
had learnt to patch together the neatest Greek and Latin verses which
have appeared since the days of Mr. Canning.

* * * * *

I have often amused myself, by fancying one question which an old Roman
emperor would ask, were he to rise from his grave and visit the sights of
London under the guidance of some minister of state. The august shade
would, doubtless, admire, our railroads and bridges, our cathedrals and
our public parks, and much more of which we need not be ashamed. But
after a while, I think, he would look round, whether in London or in most
of our great cities, inquiringly and in vain, for one class of buildings,
which in his empire were wont to be almost as conspicuous and as
splendid, because, in public opinion, almost as necessary, as the
basilicas and temples--"And where," he would ask, "are your public
baths?" And if the minister of state who was his guide should answer--"O
great Caesar, I really do not know. I believe there are some somewhere
at the back of that ugly building which we call the National Gallery; and
I think there have been some meetings lately in the East End, and an
amateur concert at the Albert Hall, for restoring, by private
subscriptions, some baths and wash-houses in Bethnal Green, which had
fallen to decay. And there may be two or three more about the
metropolis; for parish vestries have powers by Act