a noble water-field, which I know well; for an old dream of mine has been, that ere I died I should see all the rain of the Carnedds, and the Glyders, and Siabod, and Snowdon itself, carried across the Conway river to feed the mining districts of North Wales, where the streams are now all foul with oil and lead; and then on into the western coal and iron fields, to Wolverhampton and Birmingham itself:  and if I were the engineer who got that done, I should be happier—­prouder I dare not say—­than if I had painted nobler pictures than Raffaelle, or written nobler plays than Shakespeare.  I say that, boy, in most deliberate earnest.  But meanwhile, do you not see that in districts where coal and iron may be found, and fresh manufactures may spring up any day in any place, each district has a right to claim the nearest rainfall for itself?  And now, when we have got the water into its proper place, let us see what we shall do with it.

But why do you say we?  Can you and I do all this?

My boy, are not you and I free citizens; part of the people, the Commons—­as the good old word runs—­of this country?  And are we not—­or ought we not to be in time—­beside that, educated men?  By the people, remember, I mean, not only the hand-working man who has just got a vote; I mean the clergy of all denominations; and the gentlemen of the press; and last, but not least, the scientific men.  If those four classes together were to tell every government—­“Free water we will have, and as much as we reasonably choose;” and tell every candidate for the House of Commons,—­“Unless you promise to get us as much free water as we reasonably choose, we will not return you to Parliament:”  then, I think, we four should put such a “pressure” on government as no water companies, or other vested interests, could long resist.  And if any of those four classes should hang back, and waste their time and influence over matters far less important and less pressing, the other three must laugh at them, and more than laugh at them; and ask them—­“Why have you education, why have you influence, why have you votes, why are you freemen and not slaves, if not to preserve the comfort, the decency, the health, the lives of men, women, and children—­most of those latter your own wives and your own children?”

But what shall we do with the water?

Well, after all, that is a more practical matter than speculations grounded on the supposition that all classes will do their duty.  But the first thing we will do will be to give to the very poorest houses a constant supply, at high pressure; so that everybody may take as much water as he likes, instead of having to keep the water in little cisterns, where it gets foul and putrid only too often.

But will they not waste it then?