A flowing from heart to heart, from lip to lip, as in Spring the wistful air wanders through a wood, imparting to every bush and tree the secrets of fresh life, the passionate resolve to grow, and become--no matter what! A sighing, as eternal as the old murmuring of the sea, as little to be hushed, as prone to swell into sudden roaring! Miltoun held on through the traffic, not looking overmuch at the present forms of the thousands he passed, but seeing with the eyes of faith the forms he desired to see.

Near St.Paul's he stopped in front of an old book-shop.

His grave, pallid, not unhandsome face, was well-known to William Rimall, its small proprietor, who at once brought out his latest acquisition--a Mores 'Utopia.' That particular edition (he assured Miltoun) was quite unprocurable--he had never sold but one other copy, which had been literally, crumbling away.

This copy was in even better condition.

It could hardly last another twenty years--a genuine book, a bargain.