I should have gone mad without it. Were I a painter of subject pictures, I would exhaust all my skill in proportion and perspective and atmosphere upon the august seat of empire, I would present it gray and dignified and immense and respectable beyond any mere verbal description, and then, in vivid black and very small, I would put in those valiantly impertinent vans, squatting at the base of its altitudes and pouring out a swift, straggling rush of ominous little black objects, minute figures of determined women at war with the universe. However, to cut a long matter short, my proposal's this: —I've taken a fancy to your bantling, and, as I've no son of my own, if it meets with your concurrence and that of Mrs.
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