But now that this bar is removed, I trust I may, without impropriety, urge it. I suppose because it IS the chief thing in life. A nine days’ wonder is soon forgotten. "I see him!—row for your life!" "That's the way to miss him, master," replied Ben coolly. It’s all right. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. Other phrases returned now, like echoes. Spurlock knew that somewhere along the way he would write a story worth while. We mustn’t make it so. .
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