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"Do you want to see him?" I gathered my horse.

"Don't you like him?"

Even in the character of the goods there was eloquence, and not a drollery in the scene, not even an ugliness, but was touched, was rife, with the woe of a war whose burning walls were falling in on us. And outward, too, upon others; a few up-ended cottonbales leaned against each other ragged and idle, while women and babes starved for want of them in far-away Lancaster.

"Yes, madam, between Melpomene and Terpsichore."

"No."

Turn again thine eyes, maiden passing fair. O maiden passing fair, turn again thine eyes!"

"Why, I can read my safety in your face. You can't read anything in mine; you're afraid to look."

I averted my face and answered with a nod.

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