The Treasure of Heaven: A Romance of Riches

London,-and a night in June. London, swart and grim, semi-shrouded in a warm close mist of mingled human breath and acrid vapour steaming up from the clammy crowded streets,-London, with a million twinkling lights gleaming sharp upon its native blackness, and looking, to a dreamer's eye, like some gigantic Fortress, built line upon line and tower upon tower,-with huge ramparts raised about it frowningly as though in self-defence against Heaven. Around and above it the deep sky swept in a ri...