" "Take a glass of gin, Ma'am," cried Poll Maggot, holding up a bottle of spirit; "it used to be your favourite liquor, I've heard. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. ‘That is, if she’s gone that way. I shall lose my fees and the laced coat. The Widgetts talked with a remarkable absence of external coverings; the Palsworthys found all the meanings of life on its surfaces. " This she did carefully, but inwardly commenting that he was still in the realm of strange fancies. From where had he come, and why? An author! To her he would be no less interesting because he was unsuccessful. A short way off in the fields he descried a sort of shed or cow-house, and thither he contrived to drag his weary limbs. “Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. "Ah! you are there, my dear young lady," said the widow, smiling faintly; "when I first waken, I'm always in dread of finding myself again in that horrible asylum.
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