Chapter 23 - Page 2

place, and was starting for the Surgery, that I
bethought me of the strange power I possessed of undoing all this harm.

"Now is my time!" I said to myself, as I moved back the hand of the
Watch, and saw, almost without surprise this time, all things restored
to the places they had occupied at the critical moment when I had first
noticed the fallen packing-case.

Instantly I stepped out into the street, picked up the box,
and replaced it in the cart: in the next moment the bicycle had spun
round the corner, passed the cart without let or hindrance, and soon
vanished in the distance, in a cloud of dust.

"Delightful power of magic!" I thought.
"How much of human suffering I have--not only relieved, but actually
annihilated!" And, in a glow of conscious virtue, I stood watching the
unloading of the cart, still holding the Magic Watch open in my hand,
as I was curious to see what would happen when we again reached the
exact time at which I had put back the hand.

The result was one that, if only I had considered the thing carefully,
I might have foreseen: as the hand of the Watch touched the mark, the
spring-cart--which had driven off, and was by this time half-way down
the street, was back again at the door, and in the act of starting,
while--oh woe for the golden dream of world-wide benevolence that had
dazzled my dreaming fancy!--the wounded youth was once more reclining
on the heap of pillows, his pale face set rigidly in the hard lines
that told of pain resolutely endured.

"Oh mocking Magic Watch!" I said to myself, as I passed out of the
little town, and took the seaward road that led to my lodgings.
"The good I fancied I could do is vanished like a dream: the evil of
this troublesome world is the only abiding reality!"

And now I must record an experience so strange, that I think it only
fair, before beginning to relate it, to release my much-enduring reader
from any obligation he may feel to believe this part of my story.
I would not have believed it, I freely confess, if I had not seen it
with my own eyes: then why should I expect it of my reader, who, quite
possibly, has never seen anything of the sort?

I was passing a pretty little villa, which stood rather back from the
road, in its own grounds, with bright flower-beds in front---creepers
wandering over the walls and hanging in festoons about the bow-windows--
an easy-chair forgotten on the lawn, with a newspaper lying near it--
a small pug-dog "couchant" before it, resolved to guard the treasure
even at the sacrifice of life--and a front-door standing invitingly
half-open. "Here is my chance," I thought, "for testing the reverse
action of the