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. "You poor child!—you can have all the dogs on the island, if you want them! Come along to the kitchen, and we'll give Rollo a tubbing. There was the cottage she had inhabited for so many years,—in those fields she had rambled,—at that church she had prayed.
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