chink between a black timber tavern and a big gray college he could see a clock with gilt hands which the sunshine set on fire.  He stared at it as though hypnotized; and suddenly the clock began to strike, as if in personal reply.  As if at a signal, clock after clock took up the cry:  all the churches awoke like chickens at cockcrow.  The birds were already noisy in the trees behind the college.  The sun rose, gathering glory that seemed too full for the deep skies to hold, and the shallow waters beneath them seemed golden and brimming and deep enough for the thirst of the gods.  Just round the corner of the College, and visible from his crazy perch, were the brightest specks on that bright landscape, the villa with the spotted blinds which he had made his text that night.  He wondered for the first time what people lived in them.

“Suddenly he called out with mere querulous authority, as he might have called to a student to shut a door.

“`Let me come off this place,’ he cried; `I can’t bear it.’

“`I rather doubt if it will bear you,’ said Smith critically; `but before you break your neck, or I blow out your brains, or let you back into this room (on which complex points I am undecided) I want the metaphysical point cleared up.  Do I understand that you want to get back to life?’

“`I’d give anything to get back,’ replied the unhappy professor.

“`Give anything!’ cried Smith; `then, blast your impudence, give us a song!’

“`What song do you mean?’ demanded the exasperated Eames; `what song?’

“`A hymn, I think, would be most appropriate,’ answered the other gravely. `I’ll let you off if you’ll repeat after me the words—­

“`I thank the goodness and the grace
That on my birth have smiled. 
And perched me on this curious place,
A happy English child.’

“Dr. Emerson Eames having briefly complied, his persecutor abruptly told him to hold his hands up in the air.  Vaguely connecting this proceeding with the usual conduct of brigands and bushrangers, Mr. Eames held them up, very stiffly, but without marked surprise.  A bird alighting on his stone seat took no more notice of him than of a comic statue.

“`You are now engaged in public worship,’ remarked Smith severely, `and before I have done with you, you shall thank God for the very ducks on the pond.’

“The celebrated pessimist half articulately expressed his perfect readiness to thank God for the ducks on the pond.

“`Not forgetting the drakes,’ said Smith sternly.  (Eames weakly conceded the drakes.) `Not forgetting anything, please.  You shall thank heaven for churches and chapels and villas and vulgar people and puddles and pots and pans and sticks and rags and bones and spotted blinds.’

“`All right, all right,’ repeated the victim in despair; `sticks and rags and bones and blinds.’

“`Spotted blinds, I think we said,’ remarked Smith with a rogueish ruthlessness, and wagging the pistol-barrel at him like a long metallic finger.