“The opinion of Mr. Locke being invited, that philosopher took up the position he afterwards elaborated so ingeniously, declaring that knowledge concerning these mushrooms could only be the result of experience, and suggesting that the tutor should first make proof of their innocuousness on his own person.  Upon this the tutor, a priggish youth, retorted hotly that he should hope his Cambridge studies, for which his parents had pinched themselves by many small economies, had at least taught him to discriminate between the agarici.  Mr. Locke in vain endeavoured to divert the conversation upon the scope and objects of a university education, and fell back on suggesting that the alleged mushrooms should be stewed, and the stew stirred with a silver spoon, when, if the spoon showed no discolouration, he would take back his opinion that they contained phosphorus in appreciable quantities.  He was called an empiricist for his pains; and Mrs. Robinson (who hated a dispute and invariably melted at any allusion to the tutor’s res angusta domi) weakly gave way.  The mushrooms were cooked and pronounced excellent by the entire family, of whom Mrs. Robinson expired at 8.30 that evening, the tutor at 9 o’clock, the faithful domestic Wilkins and Master Eustace shortly after midnight, and an Alsatian cook, attached to the establishment, some time in the small hours.  The poor child, who had partaken but sparingly, lingered until the next noon before succumbing.”

“A strange fatality!” commented Mr. Badcock.

Mr. Fett paused, and eyed him awhile in frank admiration before continuing.

“The wonder to me is you didn’t call it a coincidence,” he murmured.

“Well, and so it was,” said Mr. Badcock, “only the word didn’t occur to me.”

“The bodies,” resumed Mr. Fett, “in accordance with the by-laws of Montpellier, were conveyed to the town mortuary, and there bestowed for the time in open coffins, connected by means of wire attachments with a bell in the roof—­a municipal device against premature interment.  The wires also carried a number of small bells very sensitively hung, so that the smallest movement of reviving animation would at once alarm the night-watchman in an adjoining chamber.

“This watchman, an honest fellow with literary tastes above his calling, was engaged towards midnight in reading M. de la Fontaine’s ‘Elegie aux Nymphes de Vaux,’ when a sudden violent jangling fetched him to his feet, with every hair of his head erect and separate.  Before he could collect his senses the jangling broke into a series of terrific detonations, in the midst of which the bell in the roof tolled one awful stroke and ceased.

“I leave to your imagination the sight that met his eyes when, lantern in hand, he reached the mortuary door.  The collected remains, promiscuously interred next day by the municipality of Montpellier, were, at the request of a brother-in-law of Mrs. Robinson, and through the good offices of Mr. Locke, subsequently exhumed and despatched to Pewsey, where they rest under a suitable inscription, locally attributed to the pen of Mr. Locke.  His admirers will recognize in the concluding lines that conscientious exactitude which ever distinguished the philosopher.  They run—­