The weather harmonized with their feelings. A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand. " "Save us!" exclaimed Wood. Jack had been touched in the morning, but he was now completely prostrated. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. Where is he, Sir? Can I see him?" "No, that you can't," answered Mrs. E. Ennison’s signet-ring had cut nearly to the bone. " It was curiously like the intermittent murmur of the surf, those weird Sundays, when her father paused for breath to launch additional damnation for those who disobeyed the Word. This too shall pass.
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