Excerpt from The Wife of Altamont IN Hinderland, one cold October day, an important cere mony was toward - nothing less than the solemn christening of a world baby - the work of many fierce and expert hands the child of capital and labour. This iron infant had been framed to live, breathe, and have its being in the water the chrism with which it should be launched sacramentally into its element must needs be wine. And today, at twelve o'clock, the patient waters of the Arrow would cleave and part to receive a solid body that would astonish them and displace them to the extent of thousands of tons.

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