In the midst a paved be-fountained square, populated only by a few men dressed in blue, and a good many singularly ugly bronze images (one on the top of a tall column).

The said square guarded up to the edge of the roadway by a four-fold line of big men clad in blue, and across the southern roadway the helmets of a band of horse-soldiers, dead white in the greyness of the chilly November afternoon--I opened my eyes to the sunlight again and looked round me, and cried out among the whispering trees and odorous blossoms, "Trafalgar Square!" "Yes," said Dick, who had drawn rein again, "so it is.

I don't wonder at your finding the name ridiculous: but after all, it was nobody's business to alter it, since the name of a dead folly doesn't bite.

Yet sometimes I think we might have given it a name which would have commemorated the great battle which was fought on the spot itself in 1952,--that was important enough, if the historians don't lie." "Which they generally do, or at least did," said the old man.

"For instance, what can you make of this, neighbours?
I have read a muddled account in a book--O a stupid book--called James' Social Democratic History, of a fight which took place here in or about the year 1887 (I am bad at dates).