foundations of St. Margaret's Island. Then he looked beyond and gazed
at the new white monastery on Caldy, and wondered who the architect
was, and how he had contrived to make the group of buildings look
exactly like the background of a mediæval picture.

After about an hour of this and a couple of pipes, Smith confesses
that he began to feel extremely drowsy. He was just wondering whether
it would be pleasant to stretch himself out on the wild thyme that
scented the high place and go to sleep till breakfast, when the
mounting sun caught one of the monastery windows, and Smith stared
sleepily at the darting flashing light till it dazzled him. Then he
felt "queer." There was an odd sensation as if the top of his head
were dilating and contracting, and then he says he had a sort of
shock, something between a mild current of electricity and the
sensation of putting one's hand into the ripple of a swift brook.

Now, what happened next Smith cannot describe at all clearly. He knew
he was on Giltar, looking across the waves to Caldy; he heard all the
while the hollow, booming tide in the caverns of the rocks far below
him, And yet he saw, as if in a glass, a very different country--a
level fenland cut by slow streams, by long avenues of trimmed trees.

"It looked," he says, "as if it ought to have been a lonely country,
but it was swarming with men; they were thick as ants in an anthill.
And they were all dressed in armour; that was the strange thing about
it.

"I thought I was standing by what looked as if it had been a
farmhouse; but it was all battered to bits, just a heap of ruins and
rubbish. All that was left was one tall round chimney, shaped very