Lord Curryfin, and others of the party, were successively asked their opinions. One of the young ladies guessed it to be the petrifaction of an antediluvian mussel. Lord Curryfin said petrifactions were often siliceous, but never pure silex; which this purported to be. It gave him the idea of an ass's head; which, however, could not by any process have been turned into flint. Conjecture being exhausted, Mr. MacBorrowdale said, 'It is a thing they call a Celt. The ass's head is somewhat germane to the matter. The Artium Societatis Syndicus Et Socii have determined that it is a weapon of war, evidently of human manufacture. It has been found, with many others like it, among bones of mammoths and other extinct animals, and is therefore held to prove that men and mammoths were contemporaries.' _The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ A weapon of war? Had it a handle? Is there a hole for a handle? _Mr. MacBorrowdale._ That does not appear. _The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ These flints, and no other traces of men, among the bones of mammoths? _Mr. MacBorrowdale._ None whatever. _The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ What do the Artium Societatis Syndicus Et Socii suppose to have become of the men who produced these demonstrations of high aboriginal art? _Mr. MacBorrowdale._ They think these finished specimens of skill in the art of chipping prove that the human race is of greater antiquity than has been previously supposed; and the fact that there is no other relic to prove the position they consider of no moment whatever. _The Rev. Dr. Opimian._ Ha! ha! ha! This beats the Elephant in the Moon,{1} which turned out to be a mouse in a telescope. But I can help them to an explanation of what became of these primaeval men-of-arms. They were an ethereal race, and evaporated. 1 See Butler's poem, with that title, in his _Miscellaneous Works_. CHAPTER XXII THE SEVEN AGAINST THEBES--A SOLILOQUY ON CHRISTMAS Over the mountains, And over the waves; Under the fountains, And under the graves; Under floods that are deepest, Which Neptune obey; Over rocks that are steepest, Love will find out the way. --Old Song in Percy's Reliques. Harry Hedgerow had volunteered to be Mr. Falconer's Mercury during his absences from the Tower, and to convey to him letters and any communications which the sisters might have to make. Riding at a good trot, on a horse more distinguished for strength than grace, he found the shortest days long enough for the purpose of going and returning, with an ample interval for the refreshment of himself and his horse. [Illustration: Mr. Falconer's Mercury 197-167]