The Press., 1895-09-26
A Splendid. blend iidl. T.iIle---Alead.
[Copyright, 1895. by the Author.l
 CHAPTER I
By WALTER BEsANT.

TCopyright, 1895, by the Author.l
 s- CHAPTER l.
 It was Sunday evening in July-an evening aglow with warmth and splen- dor; an evening when even the streets of London were glorious with the light of the splendid west; an evening when, if you are young Gas I sincerely hope you are), only to wander hand in hand over the grass and under the trees with your sweetheart should be happiness enough One ought to be ashamed to ask for more Nay, great many do not ask for more. -.---.' ~@
 They are engaged. Some time, but not just yet, they will marry. They work separately all the week, but on the Sunday they are free to go about to- gether. Of all the days that make the week they dearly love but one day namely, the day that lies between the Saturday and Monday. Now that the voice of the Sabbatarian has sunk to a whisper or a whine; now that we have learned to recognize the beauty, the priceless boon, the true holiness of the Sunday, which not only rests body and OAo4A3 DuU AA4ebJ DO 6O u6Su as OO u44 OIS mind with memories of lovely scenes, of sweet and confidential talk, of lovemak- ing and of happiness, we ought to deter mine that of all the things which make up the British liberties there is nothing for which the workingman should more fiercely fight or more jealously watch than the full freedom of his Sunday freedom uncontrolled to wander where he will, to make his recreation as he chooses.
 If the church doors are open wide, let the doors of the public galleries and the museums and the libraries be opened wide as we'll. Let him, if he choose, step from church to library. But if he is wise, when the grass is long and the brambIe is in blossom and the foliage is thick and heavy on the elms, he will, after dinner, repair to the country, if it is only to breathe the air of the fields and lie on his back watching the slow westering of the sun and the listening to the note of the blackbird in the wood.
 Two by two they stroll or sit about Hampstead Heath on such an evening. If you were to listen Ca pleasant thing to do, but wrong) to the talk of these couples, you would find that they are mostly silent, except that they only oc- casionally exchange a word or two. Why should they talk? They know each others cares and prospects; they know the burden that each has to bear-the evil temper of the boss, the uncertain ties of employment, the difficulties in the way of an improved screw, and the family troubles-there are always fam fly troubles, due to some inconsiderate member or other I declare that we have been teaching mora--ty and the proper conduct of life on quite wrong principle-namely, the selfish principle.
 We say, ''Be good, my child, and you will go to heaven" The proposition is no doubt perfectly true. But it proposes 8 selfish motive for action. I would rather say to that child, "Be good, my dear, or else you will become an intol- erable nuisance to other people. ' Now, no child likes to consider himself an in- tolerable nuisance
 These lovers, therefore, wander about the Heath, sometimes up to their knees in bracken, sometimes sitting under the trees, not talking much, but, as the old phrase has it, ''enjoying themselves very much indeed At the end of the Spaniards' road-that high causeway