, 1877-11-11
A MEMORABLE MIDNIGHT,

| From Marx T,rain's Unpublished 1Soies.
| "Conc along,-and hurry. Few people hay
got originality enough to think Of tho exped
ton have been planning, and still fewer coul,
carry it out, may be, even if they did think 0
it. Hurry, now. Cab ut the door.''
It was past II O'Clock, and Was Just 60
ing to bed. But this friend Of mine wa
| as reliable as he was eccentric. ana 81
! there was no doubt in my mind that his 'sExpc
dition" had merit in it. 1 put On my coat ant
| boots again, and We drove away.
"Where is it! Where are We going9'
''Don't worry. You'll see.n
IIc was not inclined to talk. So
/ thought this must be a weighty matter
Ny curiosity grew with the minutes, but
kept it manfully undeE the surface. watched
the lamps, the signs, the numbers, as we thpu
| dcred down the long streets, but it was OF nc
use-I am always lost in London, day or night
1t was very cEilsy-alnlosr bleak. People leaned
against the gusty blasts as II It were the dead OF
winter. The crowds grcw thinner and thinner.
and the noises waxed faint and seemed far away.
The sky WIS overcast and threatening We
drove On, and still on, till wondered if we were
ever going to stop. At last we passed by i spa
cious bridge aud vast building with a lighted
clock-towcr, and presently entered gateway,
iu court surrounded by the black outlines
Of q great editIcc. Then We aliyhted,
walked dozen steps or SO, and waited
In little while footsteps were heard, and
man emerged from the darkness and VIC Drop
ped into his wake without saying anything. He
led us under an archWay OF masonry and from
that into i roomy tunnel, through tail IRON
gate, which he locked behind US. We followed
him down this tunnel, guided more By his foot
steps Oh the stone tagging than by anything we
Il RI la 1
cainc to another iron gate, and our conductor
stopped there aud lighted little bul's-eye Ian
tern. Tnen he unlocked the gate-and wished
hc had oflcu it first, it grated SO dismally- The
gate swung opeu and ne stood on the threshold
OF what seemed u limitless domed and pillnred
cavern carved out ol the solid darkuess
Tie conductor ana my friend took off their hats
rcyerently, and 1 did likewise. Thus for the
moment that we stood there, there was not a
sound; aud the silence seemrd to add to the So
leinnity Of the gloom. looked my inquiry. Hc
answered;
1T is the tomb Of the great dead OF England
-WEsrM1ssTEK AbBEr"
One eannot eSprcsss q start-in words).
Down among the columns-eyer SO far away, it
sceulcd-a light revealed itself like star, and
voice came cchoing through the spacious emp
tiness:
''Who goes there!"
t.N-l3,
accompanied il elankcd out OF hearing in the
distance. Mr.. W held up his lantern, and
the vague vastness took something Of form to
itscll-thc stately columns developed stronger
outlines, and dim pallor here and there mark
I'll the places Of lofty Windows. We were
shapes Of men, sitting, standing, or STOPPING,
inspected us curiouslY out OF the darkness
reaching out their hands towards us-somc
appealing, some beckoning. some warning
nfrr:r
over the graves; but they looked human
and natural i'll the murky shadows. Now
a little half-grown black and white cat
squeezed herself through the bars of the
iron gate and came purring lovingly about
US, unawcd by che timeor the placc,--unimpress-
Of mighty dead that ends with u great author
Of 7esterlay and began with sccptred mon
arch away back in the dawn Of history more
than twelve hundred years ago. And she fol-
sued our work. We wandered hithcr aud thth-
er, uncovered, speaking in low voices, and step
ping softly by instinct, for any little noise rang
Ind echoed there in way to make one shudder-
,lr. W flashed his lantern first upon this |
object aud then upon that, and kept up run |
hing commentary that showed that there was I
nothing about the venerable Abbey that was triv !
al in his ewes or void OF interest. Hci Il man in |
authority, being superintendent OF the works, /
md his daily business keeps hltn familiar With |
,yery nook and corner Of the great pile. Cast
ng luminous ray, no"' here, now youdegE, Le
would say:
Observe the height of the Abbey,-1o3 feet
q the base OF the roof,-1 measured it myself |
he other day. Notice the base Of this column,
old, very old,-hundreds aud hundreds Of
hose old days! Notice it,-cvery stone is laid
lorizontalIy,- is TO say, just Us Nature laid
t originally in the quarry,-not set up edge
rise; in cur day sot1e people set them on
slgc, and then wonder why they split and
axe. Architects cannot teach Nature any
hing. Let me remove this matting-it is put
here to preserve the pavement: now there is
it OF pavement that is 100 years old: you can
ec BY these scattering clusters Of .colorcd
,osaics how beautiful it was before time and
acrilegious tllers illarred it. Now there, in
he border, was an inscription, once; sec, follow
he circle-you can trace it BY the ornaments
hat have been pulled out-here is an H. and
here is an 0, and Wonder another ALL beau
ful old English capitals-there Is no telling
hat the inscription was:-no = record left, now.
oudcr is where old Hing sebert, the
axon, lies-his monument is the oldest
nc in the Abpey; Sebert died In GIG;
nd that's as much as 1,2e50 Years ago-think Of
harlcs Ditkcns-therc on the floor, with The
rass letters on the slab-anu TO this day the
rople come and put huwers on it. Why, along |
first they almost bad to cart the flowers out,
lrrc were so many. COnl1 NOT fedae Ilcfn
lcrc, you know, because it's where everybody
alks-and body wouldn'e want them trainpled
1. ANYWAY All this place about here now is
,c Poets Corner. There IS Garrick's monu-
cnt; and Addson's, aud Thackcrays bust
ID Macaulay lies there. And here, close to
,ekens and Garrick, liz Sheridan and DR.. john
,n-apd here is old Parr-Thomas Parr-you
II rcad the Inscription:
Tho: Parr Of ye Coynty Of Sal1op borne 40: 14s3.
lived in We re1rnes OF ten Princes viz: E. Edw,
K. Edw. i. X. Rich. s. r. Hen. Z: K.
en- 8. X. Edw. 6. Qy; Ma. Q. Eliz. n. 10:
d f. Charles. aged l52 years, and WAS brryed ]
re Novcmb- Ii, 1635.
:. Very old man, indeed, and saw . deal OF
c.-cotne OIL the grave, Kitty, poor thing: she
.cps the rats away from the otllct, and there's
, harm in ber,-hcr anu her mother. anu !
rc-tbis is ShaHsoeare's statue--lean1n@ on
s elbow and pointing with his 1uger ut the y
les on the scroll:
The cloud capt towers the gorgeous palaces,
The solemn temples. the great globe itself;
i Ien. all which it inherit, shall dissolve,
j md, like the ts1seess faoric oil VISION,
Leave not wreck behind. .
- That stone there covers Campbell, the poet. t
ire are names you know pretty WE'LL !
1ton. and Gray, who wrote the 9
egy, and Butler, who wrote Hudibras, .
i Edmund spcnscr, and Ben Jonson- t
ere are three tables to him scattered about .
Is Abbey, and all got Q Rare Ben johnson i
on the,n-you were standing on one Of them q
st now-he IS buried standing up There used a
be q tradition here that explains it. The I
,ry goes that he did not dare ask to be buried b
tile Abbey, SO he asked King James II ne Z
\ t1y+% Inf tairfif |