" "I've had the hard work to do, at all events," rejoined Jack, "But I won't complain. He was pretty successful in Manchester,—a town which may be said to have been the head-quarters of the disaffected. There was no broken faith—not even any question of anything of the sort. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. Will you find your destiny, I wonder, or will you go through life like so many others—a wanderer, knocking ever at empty doors, homeless to the last? Oh, if one could but find the way to your heart. " At the time of his present introduction, his play of "The Captives," had just been produced at Drury Lane, and he was meditating his "Fables," which were published two years afterwards. An ugly flush stained his cheeks. Sebastian was gone and another doctor came to bleed her, to rid her of the black humors that were causing the plague.
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