e two already mentioned, a leading
religious light, John Augusta, Bishop of the Bohemian Brethren, and
another less certain light, Kelly, the Irish alchemist. "Irish
alchemist" has rather a racy flavour; the idea of an Irishman engaged in
such pursuit suggests endless ingenuous possibilities. With Kelly was
also the Englishman, Dr. John Dee, who was in like condemnation. No
doubt the two were a precious pair of rogues, but King Rudolph II had
asked for trouble by encouraging alchemists from all over Europe to
visit him in Prague. The present-day compeers of Dee and Kelly are no
doubt the self-constituted experts on politics, finance, commerce and
other questions which puzzle international commissions, conferences and
such-like amenities of our times. Anyway, Dr. Dee and Mr. Kelly failed
to give satisfaction, and so were incarcerated at K[vr]ivoklat. A
charming place it must have been when the forests were denser and shy
deer tripped down to the water's edge of an evening. Charming it is
still with its haunting memories that seem to linger more fondly than at
Karlov Tyn, perhaps because the modern renovator has not been so busy
here. The quaint old corners still have an old-world, homely look which
the renovator invariably destroys. Despite the trees that add deep
shadows to the sombre masonry, you may yet call up visions of knights
tilting in the uneven overgrown courtyard while fair ladies looked on
from a balcony specially added for the purpose, and in such manner as to
produce a very quaint effect of perspective. You may yet imagine
yourself as one of a reverent crowd listening awestruck to bold
utterance of religious truths from a Bohemian preacher in that beautiful
pulpit of carved stone which still adorns the gateway that leads to the
inner court. And if you have the gift of placing yourself back among
those earnest seekers after truth who lived in and suffered for their
faith, you will draw nearer to the real spirit of the sons of Bohemia.

And this reflection leads to yet another historic spot within easy reach
of Prague, Tabor. This is a pleasant little town some two hours by rail
from the capital. Seen from the railway as it stands on a gentle rise,
its tall church-tower and red roofs reflected in the waters of a winding
lake, it looks what it is now, a very peaceful spot. But if you go about
its narrow streets you come upon many relics of the town's eventful
past. It comes as a surprise to find that the side t