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. “Look here! Aren’t you going a little too far? This—this is degradation—making a fuss with sleeves. To divide the agony into two spheres so that one would mitigate the other. With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. Jack's appearance was hailed with the loudest cheers, but when Jonathan followed and took a place beside him in the vehicle, determined, he said, never to lose sight of him, the abhorrence of the multitude was expressed by execrations, hoots, and yells of the most terrific kind. His face was downcast. Oh, peste, he will ruin all. She saw a pole-chair; that would be this Mr. I must go to-night, or I shall never behold him again. He might not condone it, but the feelings that had prompted it augured well for Melusine’s safety. “This is the slavery of the veiled life. Be frank, I beg you, Miss Pellissier. ‘If he needed sanctuary, it raises grave doubts about his activities.
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