A fine exterior is what people look at now-a-days.”
Happily these interior problems are not infrequently resolved by quite exterior forces.
Here I may make a remark,–I am not accustomed to attach an exaggerated importance to exterior signs left in the track of a crime.
Verily ye deceive, ye “contemplative ones!” Even Zarathustra was once the dupe of your godlike exterior; he did not divine the serpent’s coil with which it was stuffed.
With a brief sketch, therefore, of the circumstances amid which the foundation of the house was laid, and a rapid glimpse at its quaint exterior, as it grew black in the prevalent east wind,–pointing, too, here and there, at some spot of more verdant mossiness on its roof and walls,–we shall commence the real action of our tale at an epoch not very remote from the present day.
Besides all the other phenomena which the