Evening public ledger. [volume] (Philadelphia [Pa.]) 1914-1942, 1917-02-26
A Sequel to Beyond the Great Oblivion
BY GEORGE ALLAN ENGLAND
THE AFTERGLOW

crete. A lesson to be learned, Is 1t not,
In our rebuilding OF the world?'
The mighty temple stood, in fact, almost
as men had left It In the long ago wnen
the breath of annihilation had swept
withering blast over the face of the earth.
Tbe broad grounds and driveways that had
led up TO the entrance had, Of course, long
since absolutely vanished under rank
growths.
Grass fourished in the cutters and on the
Gothic finals; the gargoyles were bearded
with vines and fern-clusters; the hylne
buttresses and muliions stood green with
moss; and in the vegetable mold that had
for centuries accumulated on the steps
and in the vestibule-for the oaken doors
had crumbed to powder-many bright
lowered plant raised its blossoms to the
sun.
The tall memorial windows and the great
rose-window In the eastern facade had long
since been shattered out of their frames by
hail and tempest. But the main body OF
the cathedral seemed yet as massvely
intact as when the master-builders OF the
twentieth century had taken down the last
scaffold, and when the gigantic organ had
first pealed its "Ldus Deo' through the
vaulted apse.
Together they entered the vast silent
space, and--awed despite hemselves-gazed
in wonder at the beauties OF this, the most
hemisphere.
The marble floor was covered now with
windrows of dead leaves and pine-spills and
with the litter from myrlads of birds nests
that sheltered themselves on achitraves and
galleries and on the lofty capitals or the
huted pillars. which rose, vistalike, a nun
dred feet above the Clear-story. spraying
out into, a wondrous compexity of ribs to
sustain the marvellous concrete vaulting
full two hundred feet in air.
Through the shattered windows broad
| slants of sunshine fell athwart the walls and
| floor. Swallows chlrped and twittered far
| aloft or winged their swift way through
| the dusky upper spaces. passing at VIII ir
| or out the mulioned gaps whence all the
painted glass had long since fallen.
| An air of mystery of long expectancy
| seemed brooding everywhere; it seemed
| almost as though the spirit of the past were
waiting to receive them-waiting now, as
| II had waited a thousand years, patiently
| inexorably, untiringly for those to come
who should some day reclaim the hdder
| secrets in the crypt once more awaker
| human echoes in the vault. and so redeem
| the world
| waiting" breathed Stern, as II th'
| thought hung pregnant in the very air
| Waiting all>these long centuries-for us
| For you, Beatrice, for me! And we arr
| here at last. we of the newer time; ant
| here we shall be one. The symbol of thu
| pillars, mounting, ever mounting toward thu
| infinite, the hope of life eternal, the ma
| jesty and mystery of this great temple
| welcome us Gomez"
He took her hand again and now II
silence they walked forward noiselessl!
over the thick leaf-carpet on the pavemen
| of rare marble.
"Oh, Allan, feel so very small in here |!
she whispered, drawing close to him. "Yo'
| and l, all alone in this tremendous plac
| built for thousands"
you and l are the world today" h
| answered very gravely; and so togethe
they made way toward the vast transep'
arched with a bewlderng lacery Of vault
| ings
All save the concrete had long vanished
| No traces now remained of pews, or rail
ings. affairs, pulpits, or any of the fitting
| of the vast cathedral
Majestic in its naked strength the build
ing stood in light and shadow, here bande