of years ago. Maybe it would tell us that the great
empire of old had the same difficulties to face and the same problems to
solve that Great Britain is called upon to face and to solve to-day.

For the poor cried for bread in the days of the Pharaohs, and they were
crowded into unclean places, but even then great and gorgeous palaces
were built.

"Can you tell us, Ancient Stone, has there been an onward march of good
since that day? Are we much better, wiser, happier and stronger than the
dusky generations that have passed away?" But we get no response from
the ancient stone, as grim and silent it stands looking down upon us. So
we turn to the assembled crowd. See how it has grown whilst we have been
speculating. Silently, ceaselessly over the various bridges, or through
the various streets leading from the Strand they have come, and are
still coming.

There is no firm footstep heard amongst them as they shufflingly take
their places. No eager expectation is seen on any face, but quietly,
indifferently, without crushing, elbowing, they join the tail-end of the
procession and stand silently waiting for the signal that tells them to
move.

Let us walk up and down to count them, for it is nearly twelve o'clock,
and at twelve o'clock the slow march begins. So we count them by threes,
and find five hundred men to the right and one hundred women to the
left, all waiting, silently waiting! Stalwart policemen are there to
keep order, but their services are not required.

In the distance the whirl of London's traffic raises its mighty voice;
nearer still, the passing tramcars thunder along, and the silence of the
waiting crowd is made more apparent by these contrasts.

Big Ben booms the hour! it is twelve o'clock! and the slow march begins;
three by three they slowly approach the Needle, and each one is promptly
served with a small roll of bread and a cup of soup; as each one
receives the bread and soup he steps out of the ranks, promptly and
silently drinks his soup, and returns the cup. Rank follows rank till
every one is served, then silently and mysteriously the crowd melts
away and disappears. The police go to other duties, the soup barrows are
removed; the grim ancient stone stands once more alone.

But a few hours later, even as Big Ben is booming six, the "Miserables"
will be again waiting, silently waiting for the rolls of bread and
the cups of soup, and having received them will again mysteriously
disappear,