twist a tail? From those fallen stones, Memory-glorious old
architect--rears a fabric wondrously beautiful; peoples it with eidolons
white and purple-robed, and gleaming jewel-gemmed; or, iron armed,
glistening with flashing light from polished steel--heroes and slaves,
conquerors and conquered; my blood no longer flows to the slow, jerking
measure of a nineteenth-century piece of mechanism, but freely, fully,
and completely. Hurrah, my blood is up! dark, liquid eyes; black,
flowing locks; strange, pleasing perfumes are around me. There is a rush
as of a strong south wind through a myriad of floating banners, and I am
borne onward through triumphal arches, past pillared temples, under the
walls of shining palaces, into the Coliseum....

'Pray, and can you tell me--if that pile of d----d old rubbish--down
there, you know--is the Forum--for I do not--see it in Murray--though
I'm sure--I have looked very clearly--and Murray you know--has
everything down in him--that a traveler....

'A commercial traveler?' ... interrupted Mr. Caper, speaking slowly, and
looking coolly into the eyes of the blackguard Bagman.... 'The ruins you
see there are those of the Forum. Good morning.'


MODERN ART.

'Lucrezia Borgia at the Tomb of Don Giovanni! You see,' said the artist,
'I have chosen a good name for my painting, ... and it's a great point
gained. Forty or fifty years ago, some of those fluffy old painters
would have had Venus worshiping at the shrine of Bacchus.'

'Whereas, you think it would be more appropriate for her to worship