so drearily there. Whenever he could get away from the confines of the hamlet for an hour or two, which was not often, he would steal off to the Brown House on the hill and strain his eyes persistently; sometimes to be rewarded by the sight of a dome or spire, at other times by a little smoke, which in his estimate had some of the mysticism of incense.
Then the day came when it suddenly occurred to him that if he ascended to the point of view after dark, or possibly went a mile or two farther, he would see the night lights of the city. It would be necessary to come back alone, but even that consideration did not deter him, for he could throw a little manliness into his mood, no doubt.
The project was duly executed. It was not late when he arrived at the place of outlook, only just after dusk; but a black northeast sky, accompanied by a wind from the same quarter, made the occasion dark enough. He was rewarded; but what he saw was not the lamps in rows, as he had half expected. No individual light was visible, only a halo or glow-fog overarching the place against the black heavens behind it, making the light and the city seem distant but a mile or so.
He set himself to wonder on the exact point in the glow where the school-master might be—he who never communicated with anybody at Marygreen now; who was as if dead to them here. In the glow he seemed to see Phillotson promenading at case, like one of the forms in Nebuchadnezzar's furnace.
He had heard that breezes travelled at the rate of ten miles an hour, and the fact now came into his mind. He parted his lips as he faced the northeast, and drew in the wind as if it were a sweet liquor.
"You," he said, addressing the breeze caressingly," were in Christminster city between one and two hours ago floating along the streets, pulling round the weathercocks, touching Mr. Phillotson's face, being breathed by
