What Will He Do With It, Complete
tracks the public char
to the bosom of priva
a conclusion which ma
ease to his mind; na
pes he has nourished,
jects he has formed,
ten, with hope, fear,
th the chap
nclusion of the fair. The final performance had been begun and ended somewhat earlier than on former nights. The theatre was to be cleared from the ground by da
nd amongst them Colley's "Astrology," Owen Feltham's "Resolves," Glanville "On Witches," the "Pilgrim's Progress," an early edition of "Paradise Lost," and an old Bible; also two flower-pots of clay brightly reddened, and containing stocks; also two small worsted rugs, on one of which rested a carved cocoa-nut, on the other an egg-shaped ball of crystal,-that last the pride and joy of the cobbler's visionary soul. A door left wide open communicated with an inner room (very low was its ceiling), in which the Bandit slept, if the severity of his persecutors permitted him to sleep. In the corner of the sitting-room, near that door, was a small horsehair sofa, which, by the aid of sheets and a needlework coverlid, did duty for a bed, and was consigned to the Bandit's child. Here the tenderness of the Cobbler's heart was visible, for over the coverlid were strewed sprigs of lavender and
light and his spirits high. His lips moved: he was talking to himself. Though he had laid aside his theatrical bandage over both eyes, he wore a black patch over one, or rather where one had been; the eye exposed was of singular beauty, dark and brilliant. For the rest, the man had a striking countenance, rugged, and rather
way, would permit. Though the man was old, you could not call him aged. One-eyed and crippled, still, marking the muscular arm, the expansive chest, you would have scarcely called him broken or infirm. And hence there was a certain indescribable pathos in his whole appearance, as if Fate
your toast is ready, and here is such a nice egg; Mr. Merle says you may be sure it
a hollow undertone, if I
Gra
t on which a b
ber where a
I were in peace at one end of the rope, what wou
ll think you are sorry t
th; sit down, darling, there, opposite, and let us talk. Now, Sophy, thou hast often said that thou w
indeed, gr
ement; the heroine and fairy vanished; only a little commonplace child in dingy gingham, with a purbl
" answered little Sop
dian, turning on her his solitary piercin
these two were much more than grandfather and grandchild: they were friends, they were equals, they were in the habit of consulting and prattling with each other. She got at his meaning, however covert hi
in the fields and gather daisies; and I could run after butterflies, and when I am tired I should come here, where I am now, any time of the day, and you would tell me stories and pretty verses, and teach me to write a little better than
the matter of that, I never could work: more shame for me, but so it is. Merle says the fault is in the stars,-with all m
you took after coming here, that if you had three pounds, w
we should be free of this thrice-execrable Rugge, the scheme I have in my head lie
?" said Sophy, resi
actly: a ro
d, horrid dresses, nor mix with th
N
be quite alon
e would be
m of shrill alarm. "I know, I know; you are t
-spoken and pleasing gentlewoman. But no
for the Mermaid; she's dead and stuffed. But, oh!
gh! But this I will tell you, that our companion, whatsoever
ophy, shaking her head. "I o
ou heard what that brute Rugge said, that the gentleman who wanted to take your portrait had called on him this mo
id I woul
t dawn with the rest. And," added the comedian, colouring high, "I must again parade, to boors and clowns, this mangl
ed on!-hope still! And, besides, I am sure those gentlemen will come here tonight. Mr. M
uietly at his meal; and Sophy shared it-though she had no appetite in sorrowing for him-but to keep him company; that done,
rs the young reader. Young reader, woman teases as well as consoles. Woman makes half the sorrows which she boasts the privilege to soothe. Woman consoles us, it is true, while we are young and handsome! when we are old and ugly, woman snubs