"But, mother," said Lucille, "you would thus debar many of the world's masterpieces in literature. It seems to me that the morality of character and scene has little to do with the artistic value of the book. The realist must depict life as it is. 'Art, for art's sake,' is what commends a novel to artistic minds." "The modern novel is too much like modern architecture," said the judge, "a combination of classical and subsequent styles thrown together to satisfy groups of individuals rather than to conform to well accepted rules or ideas of art. Modern novels and modern architecture are sure to give way to nobler thoughts that shall practically harmonize the useful and the beautiful." Dr. Argyle, having asked for opinions on the modern novel, obtained them. He was an earnest listener as he had wished more knowledge of the Harris family, which would enable him the better to lay plans; he hoped to win Lucille's favor. It was now a quarter to six o'clock and many passengers, including the Harris group, moved to the port side of the ship to observe if the sun, at the expiration of twelve hours, would again touch the water. This twenty-first day of the month had been one of Lowell's rare June days. It had been ushered in by beautiful cloud coloring. The ocean was now free from mist, the blue clouds overhead darkened the sea to the horizon, and it looked as if the sun would set behind clouds. Unexpectedly, however, the clouds near the water separated, and the sun again appeared in all his glory, sending a weird light out over the water, gilding the "Majestic," flooding the faces of the passengers with an unnatural light, and bringing into strong relief a sailing craft hovering on the starboard horizon. "Perfectly beautiful," exclaimed several ladies. "There," said the purser, as four bells rang out and the gong for dinner sounded, "the sun is kissing the waves." Before any one could answer, the gorgeous sun was slowly sinking into the blue waters of the Northern Atlantic. Passengers held their watches and in three minutes the sun had said farewell. The dinner was much enjoyed. After an evening of charming moonlight, midnight found all, save those on duty, asleep in the "Majestic," which was speeding rapidly towards the safe granite docks at Liverpool. Moonlight at sea is so bewitching, the wonder is that pleasure-seekers ever consent to land except when denied the companionship of the silver goddess of night. Whether she races with the clouds, silver tips the waves, or with her borrowed light floods the world with fairy-like beauty, it is only that her admirers may exchange sorrow for joy and conflict for peace.