and
rotten with decay. In them were the leg bones of a man. Among the
tiny bones of the hands was an ancient fountain pen, as good,
apparently, as the day it was made, and a metal covered memoranda book,
closed over the bones of an index finger.

It was a gruesome sight--a pitiful sight--this lone inhabitant of
mighty London.

I picked up the metal covered memoranda book. Its pages were rotten
and stuck together. Only here and there was a sentence or a part of a
sentence legible. The first that I could read was near the middle of
the little volume:

"His majesty left for Tunbridge Wells today, he ... jesty was
stricken ... terday. God give she does not die ... am military
governor of Lon ..."

And farther on:

"It is awful ... hundred deaths today ... worse than the bombardm ..."

Nearer the end I picked out the following:

"I promised his maj ... e will find me here when he ret ... alone."

The most legible passage was on the next page:

"Thank God we drove them out. There is not a single ... man on
British soil today; but at what awful cost. I tried to persuade Sir
Phillip to urge the people to remain. But they are mad with fear of
the Death, and rage at our enemies. He tells me that the coast cities
are packed ... waiting to be taken across. What will become of
England, with none left to rebuild her shattered cities!"

And the last entry:

"... alone. Only the wild beasts ... A lion is roaring now
beneath the palace windows. I think the people feared the beasts even
more than they did the Death. But they are gone, all gone, and to
what? How much better conditions will they find on the continent? All
gone--only I remain. I promised his majesty, and when he returns he
will find that I was true to my trust, for I shall be awaiting him.
God save the King!"

That was all. This brave and forever nameless officer died nobly at
his post--true to his country and his king. It was the Death, no
doubt, that took him.

Some of the entries had been dated. From the few legible letters and
figures which remained I judge the end came some time in August, 1937,
but of that I am not at all certain.

The diary has cleared up at least one mystery that had puzzled me not a
little, and now I am surprised that I had not guessed its solution
myself--the presence of African and Asiatic beasts in England.

Acclimated by years of confinement in the zoological gardens, they were
fitted to resume in Engla