e pride
ourselves nowadays in living in a 'matter-of-fact' age, by which we mean
a practical, unromantic age. But is it a matter for so much pride after
all? Granted that the benefits which have accrued to mankind during the
past century and a half are worth all the Romance in the world; but is
the relegation of Romance to the domain of History a _sine qua non_ so
far as progress is concerned? In our haste to get on we have tried to
drive Romance and Progress in tandem, with steady-going Progress in the
shafts; but having found that together they need skilful handling, we
have unharnessed the leader and hitched him on behind, to be dragged
along anyhow in our wake.

There must be many who regard the loss of romantic ideals as a matter for
more than passing regret. Reverence, too, not only for our elders and
betters but even for the great works of our predecessors, is going the
way of its cousin, Romance. Recently, rambling over the Hampshire downs,
our bookman toiled up the grassy bosom of this rolling land to a still
loftier height whence on a clear day the Isle of Wight, nigh thirty miles
away, can be distinguished. As he neared the top a mound came into view,
one of those unmistakable monuments raised o'er the graves of the great
chieftains of our ancient race. It was a most impressive spot, the
highest point for many miles round, and the book-hunter wondered who he
was that lay there in solemn majesty keeping watch through the long
centuries over the land that once was his. On approaching closer the
wayfarer was horrified to see that on the top of the mound, in the
centre, there was a deep hole. Its import was obvious. The mortal remains
of one who had lain for centuries in a grandeur befitting his lordly rank
had been torn from their sepulchre, probably by some irreverent commoner,
and were now doubtless exhibited to the vulgar gaze, in a glass case.

Doubtless the ghoul (for he that rifles tombs is none other) who
perpetrated this enormity described himself as an archaeologist. Possibly
he was of gentle birth and had received a University education. If so, so
much the greater his crime, for he could not plead ignorance. Surely no
seriously minded person can urge that the knowledge thus gained as to
ancient methods of burial, age of the remains, and so on, warranted such
sacrilege.[42] We can only hope that the chieftain was granted five
minutes with the archaeologist when that individual at length entered the
lan