The last time I saw any examples of Mr. Deacon's work was at a sale, held obscurely in the neighborhood of Euston Road, many years after his death.

For reasons not always at the time explicable, there are specific occasions when events begin suddenly to take on a significance previously unsuspected, so that, before we really know where we are, life seems to have begun in earnest at last, and we ourselves, scarcely aware that any change has taken place, are careering uncontrollably down the slippery avenues of eternity.