So Phroso, on my entreaty, spared the passage; and even now, when the shades of middle age (a plague on ’em) are deepening, and the wild doings of the purchaser of Neopalia grow golden in distant memory, I like to walk to the end of the chasm and recall all that it has seen: the contests, the dark tricks, the sudden deaths, aye, to travel back from the fearful struggle of Kortes and Constantine on the flying bridge to that long-ago time when the Baron d’Ezonville was so lucky as to be set adrift in his shirt, while Stefan Stefanopoulos’s headless trunk was dashed into the dim water and One-eyed Alexander the Bard wrote the Chant of Death. Ah me, that was two hundred years ago! _Colston & Coy., Limited, Printers, Edinburgh._ End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Phroso, by Anthony Hope