a veil of white muslin between
us, I was able to trace the silhouette of that engaging countenance which
Edouard Manet and others have immortalised. 'Go away,' he said: 'I do
not want to speak to you.' 'Come, come, Mr. Moore,' I rejoined, 'will
you not grant a few words to a really warm admirer?'--but he had faded
away. Then a large hand came out of the cavern and handed me a piece of
paper, and a deep voice with a slight brogue said: 'If you see mi darlin'
Gosse give this to him.' The paper contained these verses:--

Georgey Morgie, kidden and sly,
Kissed the girls and made them cry;
_What_ the girls came out to say
George never heard, for he ran away.

W. B. Y

We skirted the edge of a thick wood. A finger-post pointed to the
Castalian spring, and a notice-board indicated _Trespassers will be
prosecuted_. _The lease to be disposed of. Apply to G. K. Chesterton_.

Soon we came to an open space in which was situated a large, rather
dilapidated marble tank. I noticed that the water did not reach further
than the bathers' stomachs. Theodormon anticipated my surprise. 'Yes,
we have had to depress the level of the water during the last few years
out of compliment to some of the bathers, and there have been a good many
bathing fatalities of a very depressing description.'

'You don't mean to say,' I replied, 'Richard le Gallienne?'

'Hush! hush! he was rescued.'

'Stephen Phillips?' I asked, anxiously.

'Well, he couldn't swim, of course, but he floated; you see he had the
Sidney Colvin lifebelt on, and that is always a great assistance.'

'Not,' I almost shrieked, 'my favourite poet, the author of "Lord 'a
Muzzy don't you fret. Missed we De Wet. Missed we De Wet"?'

Theodormon became very grave. 'We do not know any of their names,' he
said. 'I will show you, presently, the Morgue. Perhaps you will be able
to identify some of your friends. The Coroner has refused to open an
inquest until Mr. John Lane can attend to give his evidence.'

I saw the Poet Laureate trying very hard to swim on his back. Another
poet was sitting down on the marble floor so that the water might at
least come up to his neck. Gazing disconsolately into the pellucid
shallows I saw the revered and much-loved figures of Mr. Andrew Lang, Mr.
Austin Dobson, and Mr. Edmund Gosse. 'Going for a dip?' said Theodormon.
'Thanks, we don't care about paddling,' Mr. Lang retorted.

'I hope it is not _always_ so shallow