Briefly, then, to mention only the more important matters, the word “but” in the fifth line was changed to “and”; the Anglo-Saxon word “employee” was substituted for the printer’s “employé”; and (a very striking example of Mr Barnett’s grasp of the public pulse), the word “lagoon” (though it had become familiar to the Island race in the last two months) was changed to “lake.” The whole discussion did not absorb more than an hour and a half of their time; and, at the close of it, Mr Barnett rang for a servant. He was that man of magnificence whom we have seen: a giant amenable and of service, he brought in wine and sandwiches upon a tray. The four men ate and drank, relaxing for a moment their attention to business, and touching upon lighter things. Three-quarters of an hour was all that Mr Barnett allowed for this pleasant interval: he rang again, and their discussion was resumed. They went carefully over all the points which had previously been decided, deleted a comma after the words “brightest gem,” and put a full stop after “in the British crown.” At last, as the afternoon was drawing on, one or the other would rise at intervals, stroll to the window with his hands in his pockets and gaze out, or saunter to the fireplace, and lean upon the mantel-piece looking into the glass above it. Conversation of a more general kind occasionally relieved the strain and tension of their great task. Lord Benthorpe had quite an interesting argument with Mr Harbury upon the value of the inter-colonial postal system, and Mr Burden slept, for perhaps five or six minutes, towards the close of the afternoon. By four o’clock, however, there remained nothing to decide, and Mr Barnett suggested that he himself should read over the prospectus for the last time, that they might have a final opportunity of touching upon any matters that had not hitherto occurred to them. * * * * * Outside in Broad Street, men passed and repassed, and most of them glanced up at that great window. There were many of the shrewdest, and many of the most solid, who envied the little group within; and even the great run of people, the crowd which turns the curving lane to a river through the middle hours of the day, felt the magic of what was passing behind those walls. There were some random enthusiasts—vague, belated democrats from an earlier age—who were filled with sudden anger as they considered invincible powers of evil forging, in that room above, the chains which were to bind a new country. To these the names of Benthorpe and Burden were the names of implacable fiends; oppressors of humanity, but oppressors of such more than human genius, that humanity could do nothing against their power. On the top of a passing omnibus a father of the name of Bailey, said to his son, who sat beside him: “You see that window? Those are the M’Korio offices.” He wagged his head wisely and said: