tale. Visibly scandalised at what they conceived to be the drunken jollity of a Highland farmer or skipper who had been visiting some neighbouring 'shebeen,' the passers-by cast reproachful glances at us both. One man, dressed in his 'Sunday best,' even made steps towards us with the intent, I could see, of reprimanding my companion for his unseemly state in a public thoroughfare on the Sabbath day; but a forbidding gleam in my eye deterred him. As we were in a neighbourhood where the Socialist League frequently held meetings, and where I was likely to be recognised as 'one of those Socialist agitators,' I was glad when we escaped public attention by turning up the nearest side street. Morris had not in the least noticed the spectacular interest which he had aroused, and of course I did not allude to it.
When we arrived at the Cathedral a number of people, members of the choir perhaps, were passing out. Morris lingered a few moments in the outlying graveyard, looking at the inscriptions on the tombstones, and then we made towards the porch of the southern aisle which was used for public admission.
We were within a few yards of the doorway when he stopped abruptly, as if struck by a rifle ball, his eyes fixed furiously on some object in front of him. As he glared he seemed to crouch like a lion for a leap at its prey, his whiskers bristling out. 'What the hell is that? Who the hell has done that?' he shouted, to the amaze, alarm, and indignation of the people near by.
I looked in the direction of his infuriated gaze, and saw at once what was the offending object. There it was; conspicuous enough—a sculptured memorial or sarcophagus in shining white marble jammed into the old grey stonework of the aisle, cutting through the string-courses of the base and projecting up into and completely cutting off a portion of the window above—in truth an atrocious piece of vandalism. 'What infernal idiot has done that?' Morris again demanded, and heedless of the consternation around him poured forth a torrent of invective against the unknown
