It was
(as the shrill boy cried out in an ecstasy) quite the Last Scene from
Coriolanus. One of the L. L.'s wore a brown wig of uncommon size.
Sticking on the forehead of the other, by invisible means, was a massive
cameo, in size and shape like the raspberry tart which is ordinarily
sold for a penny, representing on its front the Capitol at Washington.
'Miss Toppit, and Miss Codger!' said Mrs Hominy.
'Codger's the lady so often mentioned in the English newspapers I should
think, sir,' whispered Mark. 'The oldest inhabitant as never remembers
anything.'
'To be presented to a Pogram,' said Miss Codger, 'by a Hominy, indeed,
a thrilling moment is it in its impressiveness on what we call our
feelings. But why we call them so, or why impressed they are, or if
impressed they are at all, or if at all we are, or if there really is,
oh gasping one! a Pogram or a Hominy, or any active principle to which
we give those titles, is a topic, Spirit searching, light abandoned,
much too vast to enter on, at this unlooked-for crisis.'
'Mind and matter,' said the lady in the wig, 'glide swift into the
vortex of immensity.
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