"... there was an old man keeping up a fire... the eternal fire never yet known to have gone out, and I...alone was permitted to help the old man. ...When the old man left me, it was burning brightly. ..In a frenzy of fear I leaped to new fuel and put it on the fire, fanned it...but all my efforts were vain, — it was dead. A sickening dread seized me......"It is the past," the stranger began. "You have just reached a point where you failed to feed the fire ages ago. It is done. Do you want to hear of these things? The old man has gone long ago, and can trouble you no more. Very soon you will be again in the whirl of the nineteenth century....This is an old tower used by the immediate descendants of the white Magicians who settled on Ireland when England's Isle had not arisen from the sea. When the great Masters had to go away, strict injunctions were left that no fires on these towers were to go out, and the warning was also given that, if the duties of life were neglected, if charity, duty, and virtue were forgotten, the power to keep these fires alive would gradually disappear. The decadence of the virtues would coincide with the failure of the fires, and this, the last tower, guarded by an old and young man, would be the last to fail.."