Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. ‘That will be a matter for her future husband to decide. As for the patient, his decision was immediate. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. I don't know how to explain it," said Spurlock, "but music hits women queerly. "It only leads to the fencing crib," replied Wild. "Leave me, Sir; I insist. "Oh! Sir, if you'd seen her as I've seen her, you'd not wish her a continuance of misery. “A number of beautiful things are not intense.
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