out through the entrance doors of the
now empty building.

The streets were filled with surging masses of people, and there was a
glare of ruddy flames, while dense volumes of smoke poured into the
upper air from the first of two huge cars drawn by hundreds of excited
men, boys, and even women and girls.

In the center of the platform of the first car was a huge, altar-like
construction in polished iron or steel. The center of the altar was
evidently a deep hollow cauldron, into which a score of men, costumed
as satyrs, were pitchforking Bibles. The four sides of the
Altar-cauldron had open bars, so that, fanned on every side by the
double draught of the car's motion, and the fairly stiff breeze that
was blowing, the furnace roared fiercely, fed, as it incessantly was by
the copies of God's Word.

Hundreds of wildly-excited men and women--many seemed
semi-drunken--attired in every conceivable grotesqueness of costume,
and forming a kind of open-air fancy-dress ball, disported themselves
shamelessly about the cauldron car, and the triumphal car that followed
in its wake.

The latter was a gorgeous structure, finished in gold, purple, and
imitation white marble. Its center was a kind of _tableaux vivant_.
On one side was an effigy of a parsonic kind of man, crucified head
downwards upon a cross. A second side showed a theatre front with a
staring announcement "_seven_ day performances." A third side showed a
figure of "Bacchus" crowned with vine-leaves and grape-bunches. A
fourth side showed an entrance to a Law Court, with an announcement:
"Closed Eternally, for since there is no marriage, there is no divorce."

Above all this was a golden throne, and in a deep purple-plush-covered
chair sat a florid, coarsely-beautiful woman, with long hair of golden
hue hanging down upon her shoulders and blowing in the breeze. She was
literally naked, save for a ruffle of pink muslin about her waist.
Upon her head was a crown, in her right hand she held a gilded crozier.

The most wanton, hideous licentiousness was the order of the hour among
the mob of fancy-costumed people.

Ralph Bastin and his companion followed in the wake of the foaming,
raging sea of semi-mad people.

"The French Revolution business over again," said Ralph--he had to
shout into his friend's ear to be heard.

His companion nodded an assent, then bawled back:

"Whither are they bound, I wonder?"

Ralph pointed to a banner bearing the inscrip