Our own unworthy selves, reflected in contrast from the clear transparency of their bodily investments, caused us to shrink abashed from the hallowed precincts that bespoke in their immaculate purity a perfection that we had supposed beyond the reach of mortal attainment. M. Hollydorf, who was of us all the most sensitively mindful in holding himself amenable to the Heraclean example in personal purity, scarcely ventured to cross the threshold, for among the hand-maidens Luocuratia had taken her place, but with her thoughtful face tinged with blushes shadowed from the dawning realm of unrevealed emotions. Her side- glances, timidly regardful in wondering perplexity, surveyed the object of her newborn attraction in thoughtful search for the evidences of reciprocal impression. But the educated society sophistications of M. Hollydorf’s instinctive self clouded the frankness of his expression with the turmoil of impulsive excitement, that rendered him unintelligible and diffident in bearing. This sensitive shield of instinct baffled her longing search for the current impressions of assimilation, imparting to her hands a trembling uncertainty, plainly indicating that her devotions were not fully enlisted for the ritualistic perfection required for the shapely modeling of the oracular cakes intrusted to her leavening touch of purity. To our less enamored vision her touch seemed to impart chaste consecration, for not the slightest stain or discoloration from edible crudity, in preparation for the elaboration of fire, was retained by her hands, so that in contrast we were again inclined to revolt from ourselves. But with all our opposition, intrusive memory forced upon us, with prompted aid, the contrast of swinish priests administering their wafers of dough desecrated by their filthy hands for the unthinking drove specialities of the common herd. In verification of the common impression, the padre whispered to Mr. Welson, “I wish to goodness I dared receive one of those crumpets from her hands, for upon my soul I believe it would shrive me for a taste of purity?”