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is a hill called Traitor's Hill. Such a name has the flavour of those days when treachery was still afoot. But whatever happened once to justify such a title, that was centuries ago. The hill to-day, however compromised at the bar of time by the verdict of history, has long since got its discharge. It stands forward with a respectable appearance, rising up by a gentle slope, and with an air of innocence, from the levels below. Yet there is something strange about it even now; for immediately round its foot beat the waves and tides of a sea.

Viewed under another aspect, and by a different turn of thought, that which lies at the base of Traitor's Hill is rather an army of incalculable strength. It is an infinite array of buildings, a soldiery of bricks and mortar, rank behind rank, with square upon square, and crescent after crescent interspersed in echelon among the serried files of streets, and all advancing and mustering for the assault of Traitor's Hill. The smoke, drawn backward to the horizon of distant hills,