t smiled at a thought which came to him.

'The working man's Bible,' he said, 'is his Sunday newspaper.'

'And what does he get out of it? The newspaper is the very voice of all
that is worst in our civilisation. If ever there is in one column a
pretence of higher teaching, it is made laughable by the base tendency
of all the rest. The newspaper has supplanted the book; every
gross-minded scribbler who gets a square inch of space in the morning
journal has a more respectful hearing than Shakespeare. These writers
are tradesmen, and with all their power they cry up the spirit of
trade. Till the influence of the newspaper declines--the newspaper as
we now know it--our state will grow worse.

Grail was silent. Egremont had worked himself to a fervour which showed
itself in his unsteady hands and tremulous lips.

'I had not meant to speak of this yet,' he continued. 'I hoped to
surround myself with a few friends who would gradually get to know my
views, and perhaps think they were worth something. I have obeyed an
impulse in opening my mind to you; I feel that you think with me. Will
you join me as a friend, and work on with me for the founding of such a
society as I have described?'

'I will, Mr. Egremont,' was the clear-voiced answer.

Walter put forth his hand, and it was grasped firmly. In this moment he
was equal to his ambition, unwavering, exalted, the pure idealist.
Grail, too, forgot his private troubles, and tasted the strong air of
the heights which it is granted us so seldom and for so brief a season
to tread. There was almost colour in his cheeks, and his deep-set eyes
had a light as of dawn.

'We have much yet to talk of,' said Egremont, as he rose, 'but it gets
late and I mustn't keep you longer. Will you come here some evening
when there is no lecture and let us turn over our ideas together? I
shall begin at once to think of the library. It will make a centre for
us, won't it? And remember Ackroyd. You are intimate with him?'

'We think very differently of many things,' said Grail, 'but I like
him. We work together.'

'We mustn't lose him. He has the bright look of a man who could do much
if he were really moved. Persuade him to come and see me on Sunday
night.'

They shook hands again, and Grail took his departure. Egremont still
stood for a few minutes before the fire; then he extinguished the gas,
locked the door behind him, and went forth into the street singing to
himself.

Gilbert turned