Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. "You'll not be offended, I hope," returned Wood, drily, "if I say that your voice, your manner, and, above all, your very extraordinary way of laughing, put me strangely in mind of one of the 'droll dogs,' (as you term them,) who helped to perpetrate the outrage I've just described. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. " "Sir Rowland is dead," replied Jonathan, gloomily. Here is one verse. Half the rooms empty. Prison was beastly. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. "Where are you going?" cried Thames, who, though wholly disencumbered, was scarcely able to keep up with him. Shall I bring off anything?" he added, looking eagerly round.
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