So they fared on over the glittering snow,
against the rosy sunlight of the square, the gray front of the
University building, with a few twittering sparrows in the
foreground, beside the two policemen, quiet and impassive as fate.
I could not help thinking of the distinguished A., the most
fashionable B., the wealthy and respectable C., the sentimental D.,
and the man of the world E., who were present at the performance,
whose distinguished patronage had called it into life, and who were
then resting quietly in their beds, while these haggard servants of
their pleasaunce were haled over the snow to punishment and
ignominy.
Let me finish by recalling one brighter picture of that same
season. It was early; so early that the cross of Grace Church had,
when I looked up, just caught the morning sun, and for a moment
flamed like a crusader's symbol. And then the grace and glory of
that exquisite spire became slowly visible. Fret by fret the
sunlight stole slowly down, quivering and dropping from each, until
at last the whole church beamed in rosy radiance.
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