He turns again to the trench, scrapes, feels, till from a corner he draws out a heavy lump--a small image four or five inches high.

We clean it as before.

It is a statuette, apparently of gold, or, more probably, of bronze-gilt--a figure of Mercury, obviously, its head being surmounted with the petasus or winged hat, the usual accessory of that deity.

Further inspection reveals the workmanship to be of good finish and detail, and, preserved by the limy earth, to be as fresh in every line as on the day it left the hands of its artificer.
We seem to be standing in the Roman Forum and not on a hill in Wessex.
Intent upon this truly valuable relic of the old empire of which even this remote spot was a component part, we do not notice what is going on in the present world till reminded of it by the sudden renewal of the storm.

Looking up I perceive that the wide extinguisher of cloud has again settled down upon the fortress-town, as if resting upon the edge of the inner rampart, and shutting out the moon.