The misty caravans of which she had dreamed were become actualities. With a loud shout, and headed by a powerfully-built man, with a face as black as that of a mulatto, and armed with a cutlass, the rabble leapt over the barricades, and rushed towards the vehicle. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected. Then to the Feathers, in Drury Lane. She stood on the mat instead, and looked down on him. It is really amusing. " "Of course—of course," returned Wood, hastily; "anything's better than that.
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