ping ceased, and
through the thick darkness there pierced the radiance of the star: the
strange star he had seen that night. The world seemed to awake from a
dark slumber. The ruins rose from the dust and took once more a stately
shape, even lordlier than before. Rome had risen from the dead, and once
more she dominated the world like a starry diadem. Before him he seemed
to see the pillars and the portals of a huge temple, more splendid and
gorgeous than the Temples of Caesar. The gates were wide open, and
from within came a blare of trumpets. He saw a kneeling multitude; and
soldiers with shining breastplates, far taller than the legionaries of
Caesar, were keeping a way through the dense crowd, while the figure of
an aged man--was it the Pontifex Maximus, he wondered?--was borne aloft
in a chair over their heads.

Then once more the vision changed. At least the temple seemed to grow
wider, higher, and lighter; the crowd vanished; it seemed to him
as though a long corridor of light was opening on some ultimate
and mysterious doorway. At last this doorway was opened, and he saw
distinctly before him a dark and low manger where oxen and asses were
stalled. It was littered with straw. He could hear the peaceful beasts
munching their food.

In the corner lay a woman, and in her arms was a child and his face
shone like the sun and lit up the whole place, in which there were
neither torches nor lamps. The door of the manger was ajar, and through
it he saw the sky and the strange star still shining brightly. He heard
a voice, the same voice which he had heard twelve nights before; but the
voice was not calling him, it was singing a song, and the song was as it
were a part of a larger music, a symphony of clear voices, more joyous
and different from anything he had ever heard.

The vision vanished altogether; he was standing once more under the
portico amongst the surroundings which were familiar to him. The
strange star was still shining in the sky. He went back through the
folding-doors of the piazza into the dining-room. His gloom and his
perplexity had been lifted from him; he felt quite happy; he could not
have explained why. He called his slave and told him to get plenty of
provisions on the morrow, for he expected friends to dinner. He added
that he wanted nothing further and that the slaves could go to bed.

CHUN WA

To Henry de C. Ward

His name was Chun Wa; possibly there was some more of it, but that i