and hue,
A devilish, strange, and rum-looking rout.
Yet the good St. Anthony kept his eyes
So firmly fixed upon his book,
Shouts nor laughter, sighs nor cries,
Never could win away his look."

Verse after verse belched forth from the now more or less raucous
throats of the blasphemous mob, until, with unholy unctiousness,
reaching the last verse but one, they screamed laughingly, vilely:

"A thing with horny eyes was there--
With horny eyes just like the dead,
While fish-bones grew instead of hair
Upon his bald and skinless head.
Last came an imp--how unlike the rest,--
A lovely-looking female form,
And while with a whisper his cheek she press'd,
Her lips felt downy, soft, and warm;
As over his shoulder she bent, the light
Of her brilliant eyes upon his page
Soon filled his soul with mild delight,
And the good old chap forgot his age.
And the good St. Anthony boggled his eyes
So quickly o'er his old black book,--
Ho! Ho! at the corners they 'gan to rise,
And he couldn't choose but have a look.

"There are many devils that walk this world,
Devils so meagre and devils so stout,
Devils that go with their tails uncurl'd,
Devils with horns and devils without.
Serious devils, laughing devils,
Devils black and devils white,
Devils uncouth, and devils polite.
Devils for churches, devils for revels,
Devils with feathers, devils with scales,
Devils with blue and warty skins,
Devils with claws like iron nails,
Devils with fishes' gills and fins;
Devils foolish, devils wise,
Devils great, and devils small,--
But a laughing woman with two bright eyes
Proves to be the worst devil of them all."

It was all of Hell, Hellish, and should have proved conclusively, it
proof had been desired, that with the translation of the Church, and
the flight of the Holy Spirit, the last restraint upon man's natural
love of lawlessness had been taken away.

Sweeping westwards, the hideous, blasphemous procession was continually
augmented by crowds that swarmed up from side-streets, and fell-in in
the rear of the marching throng.

Somewhere on the route, owing to a kind of backwash of the surging
people, Ralph Bastin and the Secretary of the Church had become
separated. At Picadilly circus they came suddenly face to face again.

"What is this foul, blasphemous movement? What does it mean?" asked
the Secretary. "I