The Master-Christian

Nevertheless, the glory of that banished Creator shone in the deepening glow of the splendid heavens,--and--from the silver windings of the Seine which, turning crimson in the light, looped and garlanded the time-honoured old city as with festal knots of rosy ribbon, up to the trembling tops of the tall poplar trees fringing the river banks,--the warm radiance palpitated with a thousand ethereal hues of soft and changeful colour, transfusing all visible things into the misty semblance of some divine dwelling of dreams. Ding-dong--ding dong! The last echo of the last bell died away upon the air--the last words enunciated by devout priests in their cloistered seclusion were said--"In hora mortis nostrae! Amen!"--the market women went on their slow way homeward,--the children scampered off in different directions, easily forgetful of the Old-World petition they had thought of, yet left unuttered,--the bargeman and his barge slipped quietly away together down the windings of the river out of sight,