out here and there from the
gathering darkness, while over the hills, away to my left, the edge of
the full red moon began to show. As higher and higher it climbed the
sky, one by one there leapt from the earth beneath each stone an aged
Druid all clothed in white, with long waving grey locks and beard, and
crowned with garlands of oak leaves, holly, laurels, and mistletoe. When
the circle of Druids was quite complete the old rascal who had lured me
from my shop, and who now appeared to be their chief, stepped towards
me, now far too bewildered and astounded to resist, and solemnly placed
upon my brow a wreath of wild violets. Then separately, each of the
Druids came forward with some offering which he placed before me,
afterwards returning to his place in the circle, so that presently there
grew upon the grass in front of me a great mound of vegetables, fruit,
flowers, haunches of venison, fowls, hares, rabbits, and young lambs. At
length, every Druid having made his offering, their chief handed round
the tin of snuff from which each old fellow took a large pinch, and
then, linking hands, they danced wildly round me.

[Illustration: THERE GREW IN FRONT OF ME A GREAT MOUND]

'"In utter silence, by the light of the moon, now high in the sky, these
solemn rites were performed, and still without a sound they whirled
quicker and quicker around me, their feet hardly seeming to touch the
ground, and their long loose garments streaming after them as they flew.

'"Presently the distant chime of the church clock striking twelve
reached me from the town below and I gradually fell into a trance, as
one by one the old Druids sank into the earth beneath the stones.

'"Every day since then until to-day have I passed in complete oblivion,
and every night have I awakened to find myself seated on the stone in
the centre of the ring of Druids, with all the power of resistance taken
from me, compelled to be the object of their weird rites.

[Illustration: SNEEZING AND SNEEZING]

'"Last night, however, just as the church clock began to strike twelve,
such a rush of memories flooded my brain, and such a longing to see my
old home and friends took possession of me, that a terrible rage at the
cruel tyranny of the Druids had gathered in my bosom before the clock
had finished striking the hour. When it was about to strike the last
beat, I arose from my seat in the centre of the circle and approaching
the wicked old chief, I snatched the