The Mayor of Troy

nowned and prosperous, of better character rather than worse; and brought about less by vice than by some great erro

sed being a perfect Trojan. We were far indeed from suspecting it; he was our fine flower, our repres

s time on English Moralities, but only to find his audience diminished to one young lady (whom he promptly married)-this lecturer, I say, whose text-books indeed indicated several points of difference b

d calling on one another to mark the prismatic tints, the fugitive images, symbols, meanings of the wide world glassed upon our pretty toy. We launc

s as children: but each bubble as it bursts releases a shower of innocent laughter, flinging it like spr

our streets, wi

t him, grave as a judge, with compressed lip and corrugated brow? Stand aside, I warn you: his fit is on him, and he may catch you up with him to heights where the ridiculous and the sublime are one an

antly, with patronage, in deprecation, compassionately, disdainfully (as when he happened to mention Napoleon Bonaparte);

he was a great man, and it took the

m was no invention of ours. It started with the V

ed a sermon which, at the request of a few parishioners, he afterwards published under the title of Reflections on the New Century. In delight

ion to remind his brother of Helleston that Reflection was a retrospective process; that Man, as a finite creature, could but anticipate events before they happene

w if in the Vicar of Troy's opinion the new century would begin on January 1st, 1801: for his

tury would begin on the first day of January 1801, and that any

from common sense to metaphysics-we need not concern ourselves. The most of them reappeared the other day (1900-1901) in the public press, and will doub

atan might reasonably be expected to regain his liberty (see Revelation xx.). For evidence he adduced a local tradition that in his parish the Archangel Michael (whose Mount stands at no great distance) had met and defeated the Prince of Darkness, had cast him into a pit, and had sealed the pit with a great stone; which stone might be seen by any visitor on application to the landlord of the "Angel" Inn and payment of a trifling fee. Moreover, the

evil's Heaths, Moors, Downs, Commons, Copses, Furzes, Marshes, Bogs, Streams, Sands, Quicksands, Estuaries; Devil's High-roads, By-roads, Lanes, Footpaths, Stiles, Gates, Smithies, Cross-roads; from every corner of the Duchy. He matched Helleston's May-dance with at least a score of similar May-day observances in different towns and villages of Cornwall. He quoted the Padstow Hobby-horse, the Towednack Cuckoo-feast, the Madron Dipping Day, the Troy May-dragon,

th

rations Proper to the New Century, with some Reflections on the Millennium. Note, pray, the artfulness of the title,

h 25th, 1804, he knocked at the Major's door, and, pushing

Surely the French-" The Major bounc

, Major! I have

with a trembling hand. She was a

his relief. "I thought for the mome

of the stick, but at the wrong end. I've been working it out, and 'tis plain (excuse m

nch!" Again the Major b

es, of course-

s voice shook, though he b

hun

Lord!

motion. "As I can now prove to you in ten minutes, the Corsican's name spells accurately the Number of the Beast. But that's only the beginning. Power, you remember, was given to the Beast to continue forty and two

ently so puerile but so obviously symbolical to one who looks below the surface-turn out to be not retrospective, not reminiscent, not commemorative at all, but anticipatory. On every 1st of May our small urchin

xclaimed the M

ring-cleaning, too!"

he Vicar assured them, pulling out a poc

timorously, "will it make

wh

-our routine? Call it

iend, the M

ogether-"if it's a question of Satan's being bound for a thousand years, on general grounds one

stament again. "It has

ed impatiently. "Still, it

Marty gripped her apron, as

ss Marty, is not th

isn't

tan will be bound for a

he bell-rope-"there's no harm in ringi

r the first time, found it difficult t

at table: I'll say that for him. A

pushed back his chair and was staring at

what suddenly: but my first thought

r. I appreciate

hink of it-an event of this magnit

him, do you think?

th. Scipio, its cook and compounder, bore it with professional pride, supporting the dish on one palm bent backwards, and held accurately level with his shoulder; whence, by a curious and quite indescribable turn of the wrist (Scipio was double-jointed), during which for one f

the Major would say,

he tray from him petti

f what you say is correct (you may go, Scipio) i

it in that light. It's a

-fifth. We have littl

say in churc

g. Good Heavens! is this a time for ad

ar confessed, "of memori

rialised the Prime Minister for a couple of nineteen-pounders which, with the two on the Old Fort, would have made our harbour impregnable.

crossed the Vicar's mind that his hearers were con

ect his practice,"

dgment, and was wont to lean on it, though not too ostentatiously. "It can hardly fail to affect his practi

an explanation. "And forty-two months," he wound up, "are forty

d you say? Patmos? Now, if anyone had come to me a week ago and told

ecause, as she explained, no one had forbidden her) imparted it to Scipio and again to Cai Tamblyn in the course of the morning; yet, knowing Troy, I hesitate to blame

?" asked someone of Gunne

d Gunner Sobey; "and then, if you're

ttested it with their names, had prudently left a fair blank space thereunder for additions. Often, during the Vicar's sermons, poor Scipio's gaze had dwelt on this blank space. Maybe the scarlet lettering above it fascinated him. Negroes are notoriously fond of scarlet. But out upon me for so mean a guess at his motives! Scipio, regarding this board Sunday by Sunday, saw in imagination his own name added to that glorious roll. He had a

ngaged in cleaning the plate, Scipio's hand shook so violently that the silver sugar-basin slipped from hi

ands went up in horrified dismay

llenniu

ver replac

carlet letters and flourishes, "brief flourishes."-"Ole man Satan is among us sho 'nuff, Miss Marty: amon

eh? what widows? You don't m

of irritation, would address him as "You black limb of Satan." He came from the Gold Coast, and she had heard strange stories of that happily distant, undesirable shore; stories of devil

haste to the kitchen. Then, half an hour later, while rolling

r had word of it this morning, and-only think

said Lavinia.

a couple of chairs, where the Major sometimes smoked his pipe and overlooked the harbour and the shipping. Along each side of the courtyard ran a flower-bed, and in these

cking up a slug and jerking

nd of the world. To begin with, Satan is t

amblyn with fine