ear you say that--very glad!" said I, "because it is a
great thing to feel that they are working for the Britain that is,
and is to be."

III

RIFLES AND LEWIS GUNS

A drive through a stately street where were shops which might rival
Bond Street, the Rue de la Paix, or Fifth Avenue for the richness and
variety of their contents; a street whose pavements were thronged
with well-dressed pedestrians and whose roadway was filled with motor
cars--vehicles, these, scornful of the petrol tax and such-like
mundane and vulgar restrictions--in fine, the street of a rich and
thriving city.

But suddenly the stately thoroughfare had given place to a meaner
street, its princely shops had degenerated into blank walls or grimy
yards, on either hand rose tall chimney stacks belching smoke;
instead of dashing motor cars, heavy wains and cumbrous wagons
jogged by; in place of the well-dressed throng were figures
rough-clad and grimy that hurried along the narrow sidewalks--but
these rough-clad people walked fast and purposefully. So we hummed
along streets wide or narrow but always grimy, until we were halted
at a tall barrier by divers policemen, who, having inspected our
credentials, permitted us to pass on to the factory, or series of
factories, that stretched themselves before us, building on
building--block on block--a very town.

Here we were introduced to various managers and heads of departments,
among whom was one in the uniform of a Captain of Engineers, under
whose capable wing I had the good fortune to come, for he, it seemed,
had lived among engines and machinery, had thought out and contrived
lethal weapons from his youth up, and therewith retained so kindly
and genial a personality as drew me irresistibly. Wherefore I gave
myself to his guidance, and he, chatting of books and literature and
the like trivialities, led me along corridors and passage-ways to
see the wonder of the guns. And as we went, in the air about us was a
stir, a hum that grew and ever grew, until, passing a massive swing
door, there burst upon us a rumble, a roar, a clashing din.

We stood in a place of gloom lit by many fires, a vast place whose
roof was hid by blue vapour; all about us rose the dim forms of huge
stamps, whose thunderous stroke beat out a deep diapason to the ring
of countless hand-hammers. And, lighted by the sudden glare of
furnace fires were figures, bare-armed, smoke-grimed, wild of aspect,
figures that whirled hea