Dalibor, it appears, was a Bohemian knight with views in advance of his time: he was a socialist. One day he assembled his friends, relatives and retainers in the castle yard and appeared among them armed and on horseback. He dismounted and commenced proceedings by scraping off his shield the heraldic emblems with which it was charged. Lions and bears, rampant, couchant, gardant, and other fauna in becoming attitudes, bends, bars, engrailed, dancetty, raguly, gules, azure, argent or otherwise--all these things of beauty vanished from Dalibor's scutcheon while the assembled multitude wondered "What next?" Thereupon Dalibor held forth, in impressive manner and impassioned tones, on the iniquity of the system, the inequality of condition, under which they were all forced to exist. Having made his assembled fellow-men his equals by removing the aforesaid heraldic devices, he would further show his sense of equality by leading them in person and on foot to real freedom; so said Dalibor. Thereupon the multitude, at Dalibor's heels, set off down the hill and started spreading equality all around them. Their method was quite simple, indeed it lacked originality: they just helped themselves to the goods of those who happened to live by the way. Those who failed to rise to this lofty conception of Dalibor and his comrades were knocked on the head--also quite a simple and homely method of appeal; and so this happy band of pilgrims left behind them a dead-level of equality. These their efforts at social regeneration, their illustration of economic principles, were not appreciated. Dalibor was captured and invited to take up his residence beneath the trap-door of the tower that was henceforth to be known by his name. As soon as he was safely housed, Rumour, the mother of Legend, got busy about him. Folk began to whisper to each other the news that wonderful music was heard proceeding from out of the stern walls of Dalibor's prison; the sound of a violin was heard by the many who were attracted to the spot by Rumour. No doubt Dalibor learnt to play the violin: the Czech is so intensely musical that he will master any instrument before he has got the hang of the grammar of his own language, the fiddle is so much easier. The strange thing is that the musical performance continued long after Dalibor's death--here Legend steps in with the assertion that an angel, a fairy, or at least some sort of supernatural being, is continuing Dalibor's programme. [Illustration: A TOWER OF THE HRADČANY.] There were many other visitors to Daliborka, and in course of time the lower stratum of the tower filled up with human relics. As the defunct visitors were mostly Czechs, and therefore full of music, I should think that they could form at least a string quartette--it only requires a little enterprise and a good strong medium. I make a present of this suggestion to the Prague Society for Psychical Research, if there be one.