ever it may be
discovered, undismayed by portents, doing what they have to do with all
their strength. In every land there are such, no few of them, a great
brotherhood, without distinction of race or faith; for they, indeed,
constitute the race of man, rightly designated, and their faith is one,
the cult of reason and of justice. Whether the future is to them or to
the talking anthropoid, no one can say. But they live and labour,
guarding the fire of sacred hope.

In my own country, dare I think that they are fewer than of old? Some I
have known; they give me assurance of the many, near and far. Hearts of
noble strain, intrepid, generous; the clear head, the keen eye; a spirit
equal alike to good fortune and to ill. I see the true-born son of
England, his vigour and his virtues yet unimpaired. In his blood is the
instinct of honour, the scorn of meanness; he cannot suffer his word to
be doubted, and his hand will give away all he has rather than profit by
a plebeian parsimony. He is frugal only of needless speech. A friend
staunch to the death; tender with a grave sweetness to those who claim
his love; passionate, beneath stoic seeming, for the causes he holds
sacred. A hater of confusion and of idle noise, his place is not where
the mob presses; he makes no vaunt of what he has done, no boastful
promise of what he will do; when the insensate cry is loud, the counsel
of wisdom overborne, he will hold apart, content with plain work that
lies nearest to his hand, building, strengthening, whilst others riot in
destruction. He was ever hopeful, and deems it a crime to despair of his
country. "Non, si male nunc, et olim sic erit." Fallen on whatever evil
days and evil tongues, he remembers that Englishman of old, who, under
every menace, bore right onwards; and like him, if so it must be, can
make it his duty and his service to stand and wait.

XXVI.

Impatient for the light of spring, I have slept lately with my blind
drawn up, so that at waking, I have the sky in view. This morning, I
awoke just before sunrise. The air was still; a faint flush of rose to
westward told me that the east made fair promise. I could see no cloud,
and there before me, dropping to the horizon, glistened the horned moon.

The promise held good. After breakfast, I could not sit down by the
fireside; indeed, a fire was scarce necessary; the sun drew me forth, and
I walked all the morning about the moist lanes, delighting m