Those glowing furnace-bars; those roaring flames ... there could be no doubt whatever about it. A hymn spoke of “Gates of Hell” ... of course they just called it the heating furnace to avoid frightening him. The little boy became acutely conscious of his misdeeds. He had taken ... no, stolen an apple from the nursery pantry and had eaten it. Against all orders he had played with the taps in the sink. The burden of his iniquities pressed heavily on him; remembering the encouraging warnings Mrs. Fairchild, of _The Fairchild Family_, gave her offspring as to their certain ultimate destiny when they happened to break any domestic rule, he simply dared not pass those fiery apertures alone. With his hand in that of his friend Joseph, the footman, it was quite another matter. Out of gratitude, he addressed Joseph as “Mr. Greatheart,” but Joseph, probably unfamiliar with the _Pilgrim’s Progress_, replied that his name was Smith. The interminable labyrinth of passages threaded, the warm, comfortable housekeeper’s room, with its red curtains, oak presses and a delicious smell of spice pervading it, was a real haven of rest. To this very day, nearly sixty years afterwards, it still looks just the same, and keeps its old fragrant spicy odour. Common politeness dictated a brief period of conversation, until Mrs. Pithers, the housekeeper, should take up her wicker key-basket and select a key (the second press on the left). From that inexhaustible treasure-house dates and figs would appear, also dried apricots and those little discs of crystallised apple-paste which, impaled upon straws, and coloured green, red and yellow, were in those days manufactured for the special delectation of greedy little boys. What a happy woman Mrs. Pithers must have been with such a prodigal wealth of delicious products always at her command! It was comforting, too, to converse with Mrs. Pithers, for though this intrepid woman was alarmed neither by bears, hunchbacks, nor crocodiles, she was terribly frightened by what she termed “cows,” and regulated her daily walks so as to avoid any portion of the park where cattle were grazing. Here the little boy experienced a delightful sense of masculine superiority. He was not the least afraid of cattle, or of other things in daylight and the open air; of course at night in dark passages infested with bears and little hunchbacks.... Well, it was obviously different. And yet that woman who was afraid of “cows” could walk without a tremor, or a little shiver down the spine, past the very “Gates of Hell,” where they roared and blazed in the dark passage. From _The Days Before Yesterday_ by Lord Frederick Hamilton. Copyright 1920, George H. Doran Company, Publishers. SHREWSBURY SCHOOL HENRY W. NEVINSON