A RETURN TO NATURE 93 



to help forward the contemptible procession; sometimes, 

 with a quick motion of the hand, they caused the strag- 

 gling rear to double their pace for a few yards by run- 

 ning with knees yet more bent and coat-tails flapping and 

 hands still deep in pockets — only for a few yards, for 

 their walking pace was their best, all having the same 

 strength, the same middle height, the same stride, though 

 no two could be seen keeping step. 



The traffic thickened, and amidst the horses that 

 nodded and trampled and the motor-cars that fumed and 

 fretted the procession was closed up into a grey block 

 behind the donkey-cart. On one side of the donkey was 

 the black-bearded man, his right arm now resting on the 

 animal's neck; on the other side the policemen; in front 

 the standard-bearers hung down their heads and held up 

 their poles. Often the only remnant visible was the 

 raven crest of the leader. 



The multitude on the pavement continued to press 

 straight onward, or to flit in and out of coloured shops. 

 None looked at the standard, the dark man and his cloudy 

 followers, except a few of the smallest newspaper boys 

 who had a few spare minutes and rushed over to march 

 with them in the hope of music or a speech or a conflict. 

 The straight flower-girl flashed her eyes as she stood on 

 the kerb, her left arm curving with divine grace round 

 the shawl-hidden child at her bosom, her left hand thrust 

 out full of roses. The tender, well-dressed women lean- 

 ing on the arms of their men smiled faintly, a little 

 pitiful, but gladly conscious of their own security and 

 pleasantness. Men with the historic sense glanced and 

 noted the fact that there was a procession. One man. 



