If, as seems probable, the
anthropological section of society manages to get round the curse that
protects the bones of Shakespeare, I should like to see the dome which
rounded itself over his imperial brain. Not that I am what is called a
phrenologist, but I am curious as to the physical developments of these
fellow-mortals of mine, and a little in want of a sensation.
I should like to live long enough to see the course of the Tiber turned,
and the bottom of the river thoroughly dredged. I wonder if they would
find the seven-branched golden candlestick brought from Jerusalem by
Titus, and said to have been dropped from the Milvian bridge. I have
often thought of going fishing for it some year when I wanted a vacation,
as some of my friends used to go to Ireland to fish for salmon. There
was an attempt of that kind, I think, a few years ago.
We all know how it looks well enough, from the figure of it on the Arch
of Titus, but I should like to "heft" it in my own hand, and carry it
home and shine it up (excuse my colloquialisms), and sit down and look at
it, and think and think and think until the Temple of Solomon built up
its walls of hewn stone and its roofs of cedar around me as noiselessly
as when it rose, and "there was neither hammer nor axe nor any tool of
iron heard in the house while it was in building.
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