may surely be remembered by you with regretful piety, when you stand by the blank stones which at once restrain and disgrace your native river, as the final worship rendered to it by modern philosophy. But a little incident which I saw last summer on its bridge at Wallingford, may put the contrast of ancient and modern feeling before you still more forcibly. Suddenly, something clicked, like the opening and closing of a signal-disc that warns the passing train.
A thin stream of light flashed to every corner of the room, like an arrow that leaves behind it a trail of light. Know that the great lord and illus- trious Knight, SIR SAGRAMOR LE DESIROUS having condescended to meet the King’s Minister, Hank Mor- gan, the which is surnamed The Boss, for satisfgction of offence anciently given, these wilL engage in the lists by Camelot about the fourth hour of the morning of the sixteenth day of this next succeeding month. The battle wiil be a l outrance, sith the said offence was of a deadly sort, admitting of no commmon Position.
For one moment every one stared at him without a word; and at once every one felt that something revolting, grotesque, positively scandalous, was about to happen. Miüsov passed immediately from the most benevolent frame of mind to the most savage. It shot forth from the central fluting of a column that supported the pediment of the bookcase.
It rested for a moment on the panel opposite like a glittering circle of burnished silver, then flashed in all directions like a guilty eye that scrutinizes every shadow. All the feelings that had subsided and died down in his heart revived instantly. It disappeared for a short time, but burst forth again as a whole section of the bookcase revolved on a pivot and disclosed a large opening like a vault.