"Not this autumn?" cried Mr. Drummond cheerfully; "not this summer?--for why should we wait for the autumn! Violet, I have the most serious projects with regard to the whole of us. It is high time that I set about recognizing the ends of existence; that is to say, before I die I must have a house in Bayswater and two thousand a year. All nice novels end that way. Now, in order that we shall all reach this earthly paradise, what is to be done? I have two projects. A publisher--the first wise man of his race--I will write an epitaph for him quite different from my universal epitaph--this shrewd and crafty person, determined to rescue at least one mute, inglorious Milton from neglect, has written to me. There! He has read my article on 'The Astronomical Theory with regard to the Early Religions'; he has perceived the profound wisdom, the research, the illuminating genius of that work--by the way, I don't think I ever fully explained to you my notions on that subject?" "Oh, no, please don't," said Violet meekly. "What does the publisher say?" "Do you see the mean, practical, commercial spirit of these women?" he said, apparently addressing himself. "It is only the money they think of. They don't want to be instructed!" "I know the article well enough," said Violet blushing hotly. "I read it--I--I saw it advertised, and bought the review, when I hadn't much money to spend on such things." "Did you, Violet?" said he, forgetting for a moment his nonsense. Then he continued: "The publisher thinks that with some padding of a general and attractive nature, the subject might be made into a book. Why, therefore, should not our fortune be made at once, and the gates of Bayswater thrown open to the Peri? I do believe I could make an interesting book. I will throw in a lot of Irish anecdotes. I wonder if I could have it illustrated with pictures of 'Charles I. in Prison,' the 'Dying Infant,' 'The Sailor's Adieu,' and some such popular things!" "I think," said Violet humbly, "we might go on to the other project." "Ah," said he thoughtfully, "that requires time and silence first. I must have the inspiration of the mountains before I can resolve it. Do you know what it is?" "Not yet." "It is the utilizing of a great natural force. That is what all science is trying to do now; and here is one of the mightiest forces in nature of which nothing is made, unless it be that a few barges get floated up and down our rivers. Do you see? The great mass of tidal force, absolutely irresistible in its strength, punctual as the clock itself, always to be calculated on--why should this great natural engine remain unused?" "But then, uncle," said a certain young lady, "if you made the tide drive machinery at one time of the day, you would have to turn the house round to let it drive it again as it was going back."