I thought it was a mirror at the first, for it was so very like myself. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. Dare we look back upon the darkened vista, and, in imagination retrace the path we have trod? With how many vain hopes is it shaded! with how many good resolutions, never fulfilled, is it paved! Where are the dreams of ambition in which, twelve years ago, we indulged? Where are the aspirations that fired us—the passions that consumed us then? Has our success in life been commensurate with our own desires—with the anticipations formed of us by others? Or, are we not blighted in heart, as in ambition? Has not the loved one been estranged by doubt, or snatched from us by the cold hand of death? Is not the goal, towards which we pressed, further off than ever—the prospect before us cheerless as the blank behind?—Enough of this. From McClintock's came an infernal tinkletinkle, tump-tump! There was no composing with such a sound hammering upon the ear. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion. I'd have got something nice. ” “Ay,” he repeated, looking away from her. It is no problem. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. “Let me hasten,” she said, “to reassure you. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. It was she who had come out from the flat only a few minutes before. .
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