Yet darkness and distress weighed on the silent dwellings, and the “shining throng” of angels that once appeared to Eastern shepherds brought no message to the British Babylon, nor showed a glimmer of their glorious wings. The last chime died away; and soon the snowfall ceased. Then London slept, or tried to sleep, till, once again, after a long night of moaning wind, wan daylight stole across the white-draped roofs. Once more the bells were heard, but this time not in chimes; and through the streets, upon the frozen snow, dim muffled figures hastened to the churches. Mostly these worshippers were girls and women--courageous keepers of the Christian feast! Thus was it aforetime in that mysterious Easter dawn, when a woman, first of all,--a woman of the town--came hurrying to the Holy Sepulchre. It was not till the grey dusk of the afternoon that the first warning of most portentous happenings reached the ears of London citizens. Suddenly shrill-voiced newsboys came yelling through the gloom; and then the croaking note of hoarse-toned men was heard--at first far off; then nearer, nearer, coming and going through the streets and squares. _Epoch! Epoch!! Epoch_, SPECIAL!!! Puzzled faces peered from behind blinds, and eager people rushed out to their doorsteps. _Epoch! Epoch!_ SPECIAL EDITION! GERMAN FLEET OFF PLYMOUTH! PORTSMOUTH DOCKYARD ON FIRE! HOSTILE SQUADRON IN NORTH SEA!!! Thus, on the anniversary of the day that centuries ago had brought the glorious greeting, “Peace on Earth,” came the dire news that England’s foe, the Prussian Eagle, at last was going to make the long-intended swoop. The bugles sounded over land and sea, “War, son of hell” was loose-- “Contumelious, beastly, mad-brained war.” * * * * * It seemed incredible! Talk of invasion there had been from time to time, but long immunity had made men disbelieve in such a possibility. In like manner it had seemed inconceivable that such upheavals as had recently convulsed many a continental town could be repeated here in England. Yet London was bearing reluctant witness to the fact. And now-- “There is a sound of thunder afar, Storm in the South that darkens the day, Storm of battle and thunder of war.” Would English hearts respond this time to the old war-song? Would English grit once more avail to hurl back the advancing enemy? Even now, in many minds, after the first shock of such intelligence, there was a disposition to discredit it as based on exaggerated or sensational reports. Yet here in black and white the _Epoch_ gave the circumstantial story. In brief, it was as follows: