A wide terrace then led to large iron gates,' over which were placed the two celebrated figures of Raving and Melancholy Madness, executed by the elder Cibber, and commemorated by Pope in the Dunciad, in the wellknown lines:— "Close to those walls where Folly holds her throne, And laughs to think Monroe would take her down, Where, o'er the gates, by his famed father's hand, Great Cibber's brazen, brainless brothers stand. I don’t see any good in life if it hasn’t got you in it. But for him she might have been alive and happy. “Aren’t we all just odds and ends of humanity —the left-overs, you know. "To me?" gasped Winifred. During this colloquy, Jack had contrived unobserved to put on the hood and cloak, and being about the size of the rightful owner, presented a very tolerable resemblance to her. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. Partly, from your confessor; partly, from other sources. You are not playing to-night, are you?” “Not to-night,” she answered. This was not exactly what the woollen-draper desired.
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