After a hasty inspection of the empty frame of a magic mirror, and a fragment of the original setting of Solomon’s seal, the youth’s eye lighted upon a volume full of mysterious characters.

“Whose book is this?” he inquired.  “Heavens, it is Michael Scott’s!”

“Even so,” returned the venerable man, “and its spells have lost nothing of their efficacy.  But the last leaf, containing the formula for dismissing spirits after they have been summoned from the nether world, hath been removed by me.  Inattention to this circumstance hath caused several most respectable magicians to be torn in pieces, and hath notably increased the number of demons at large.”

“Thou old villain!” shouted the exasperated youth, “is this the way in which the treasures in thy custody are protected by thee?  Deemest thou that I will brook being thus cheated of my dear-bought talisman?  Nay, but I will deprive thee of thine.  Give me that lock of hair.”

“O good youth,” supplicated the now terrified and humbled old man, “bereave me not of the source of all my power.  Think, only think of the consequences!”

“I will not think,” roared the youth.  “Deliver it to me, or I’ll rend it from thy head with my own hands.”

With a heavy sigh, Time clipped the lock from his brow and handed it to the youth, who quitted the place unmolested by any of the monsters.

Entering the great city, the student made his way by narrow and winding streets until, after a considerable delay, he emerged into a large public square.  It was crowded with people, gazing intently at the afternoon sky, and the air was rife with a confused murmur of altercations and exclamations.

“It is.”  “No, I tell you, it is impossible.”  “It cannot be.”  “I see it move.”  “No, it’s only my eyes are dazzled.”  “Who could have believed it?” “Whatever will happen next?”

Following the gaze of the people, the youth discovered that the object of their attention was the sun, in whose aspect, however, he could discover nothing unusual.

“No,” a man by him was saying, “it positively has not moved for an hour.  I have my instruments by me.  I cannot possibly be mistaken.”

“It ought to have been behind the houses long ago,” said another.

“What’s o’clock?” asked a third.  The inquiry made many turn their eyes towards the great clock in the square.  It had stopped an hour ago.  The hands were perfectly motionless.  All who had watches simultaneously drew them from their pockets.  The motion of each was suspended; so intense, in turn, was the hush of the breathless crowd, that you could have heard a single tick, but there was none to hear.

“Time is no more,” proclaimed a leader among the people.

“I am a ruined man,” lamented a watchmaker.

“And I,” ejaculated a maker of almanacks.

“What of quarter-day?” inquired a landlord and a tenant simultaneously.