pairs; and then in the centre rose a fountain,
which seemed to stream a rain of gold, and then
with delighted applause bursting out on all sides,
the waters of the fountain parted, and then in
the centre was discovered she who I thought
was lost to me for ever, more ambrosial, more
celestial, more roseate, than before, there
enthroned as queen, silver wand in hand, with all
bending to her. I felt a thrill of joy, and yet I
had a dismal presentiment that the end was not
far away.

So it proved to be. The minor heavenly beings
floated away in ranks to each side, and the celestial
creature began to speak, oh, how melodiously!
some farewell words. Not without a
tinge of mournful sadness her utterances rose and
fell. I could have listened for ever to that dying
fall. My foreboding was fatally true. With her
marvellous power, she was about transforming the
miller, Mother Bunch herself, and others, into
new and strange shapes— Harlequin, Clown,
Pantaloon, and Columbine (Miss Robespierre standing
dressed already at the wing). A wave of
that wand, and it was done. Miss Robespierre
came bounding on (ah! how easy to know that
she was a mere creature of earth, hired at so
much per night); the clown turned in his toes,
and leered at us, and asked how we were
tomorrow; harlequin glittered like a snake; and
what I have since heard called "the comic
business" set fairly in. But with this buffoonery the
divine fires of transformation faded out. I
had one last exquisite glimpse of the lovely fairy
Morgana, more bright, more ambrosial than ever,
waving her wand, when the two halves of a street
came rushing together from the side, exhibiting
the establishment of Mr. Beefley, a butcher, and
Harmony and Co., music-sellers— met in the
centre, and shut her out from me for ever!

Then set in, the old confusion, convulsing
all round— houses changed into kitchens, gardens
into steam-boats, and vegetable shops into railway
trains. The clown and his decrepit friend
took lodgings together, and when they sat down
found their seats lifting them to the ceiling.
Articles of food were purloined from traders'
shops, the shopman always coming out into the
street to arrange his bargain, and thus leaving
his wares an easy prey to the evil-disposed and
designing. Customers' heads were cut off, and
fastened on again by the adhesive agency of the
first glue-pot that chanced to pass by.

Finally, it came to an end, and we went our
way. Going home, Honest John talked
exuberantly of the whole performance, dwelling
specially on the theft by the clown of a
lady's crinoline, and his converting of its wires
into a sort of meat-safe, and hanging it round
with rabbits, cats, and live poultry; " one of the
best things he ever saw in the whole course of
his life." Mrs. Honest John fancied something
else; the Contemporary Boy rather leant to the
policeman scenes; but— poor blinded things—
they were insensible to her. Not one of them
mentioned her. " He didn't like it," said Honest
John, pointing to me. " Something was wrong.
I saw it. He won't tell us what." My sister
whispered softly, " You were sick, dear. I was
afraid——" In the darkness of the cab I
resented this: it was too much, for she had indeed
gently warned me at dinner, when I believe for
the third time I had—— But it was not the
rich slabs of fried pudding. How little they
understood me! I could not explain, and I have
an idea that they set me down as sulky.

It was a relief to get to my lonely chamber.
There, in solitude, I could call up the enchanting
image, and feast upon all her loveliness. I
made her rise again in slow time (worked by
invisible mechanics) from among the golden groves.
I bathed her once more in ambrosial light. I
saw again in her angelic lineaments that
exquisitely gentle and half-mournful expression. I
illumined, too, from within the celestial
substance which formed her arms. In short, I dwelt
upon her perfections with a miserable pleasure,
which every moment made me more and more
wretched. I saw her as she appeared for the
last time, and felt the curious sensation I have
described as "a wrench." It was misery,
despair, desolation. I began to toss, and passed a
terrible night— the worst since the well-known
measles epoch, when people sat up with me.
Towards morning I began to dream, and I saw
her again bathed in pink light.

I came down to utter blankness, and to—
the meal known as breakfast. Everything jarred
upon me. It all looked like school. It had
the rawness and general prose of that establishment.
I wanted to have everything bathed in
pink ambrosial light. I was silent and gloomy,
and could not eat with the indiscriminate selection,
which in my instance was almost matter of
notoriety. I became the subject of public
remark. It was again insisted I was ill: an
insinuation indignantly repudiated. Honest John
Plusher then rallied me in his own pleasant way
on being "put out" by something: a course of
remark which bitterly wounded me. Then my
sister, Mrs. Honest John, kindly changed the
subject to the spectacle of last night. "It was
very good," said Honest John— " uncommonly
good! He had seen nothing better, in fact.
Scenery so good! 'Jove! what perfection they've
brought these things to now-a-days! Now, that
scene of the dancing; the what d'ye call it——?"

"The Transformation Scene?" said Mrs.
Honest John.

"No, the one where they come in and
dance?"

I could not restrain myself, but broke out,
"The Glittering Glade of the Fairies and the
Valley of the Golden Foliage!"

They started.

"By Jove!" said Honest John, looking at me
with astonishment. "But," said he, "it was
spoiled by that stout dumpy woman with the
wand: the queen, or whatever they called her."

My cheeks were burning. I felt them blazing.
She to be thus grossly described! But, good