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`You are happy, my dear father?'

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`But it does matter,' Mr. Lorry urged.

`Upon my soul, I am not sure that it was not yours. You were always driving and riving and shouldering and pressing, to that restless degree that I had no chance for my life but in rust and repose. It's a gloomy thing, however, to talk about one's Own past, with the day breaking. Turn me in some other direction before I go.'

The three had risen, and their heads were together when he came back to the garret.

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She did, indeed, start. And she caught his wrist with both her hands.

`Then what on earth is your meaning, Mr. Lorry?' demanded Stryver, perceptibly crestfallen.

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`She is.'

`You can bear a little more light?'

`Good!' said the sleeper, rising on his elbow. `Two leagues beyond the summit of the hill?'

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<`You should have said, short as a dwarf,' returned Jacques Two.Dress was the one unfailing talisman and charm used for keeping all things in their places. Everybody was dressed for a Fancy Ball that was never to leave off. From the Palace of the Tuileries, through Monseigneur and the whole Court, through the Chambers, the Tribunals of Justice, and all society (except the scarecrows), the Fancy Ball descended to the common Executioner: who, in pursuance of the charm, was required to officiate `frizzled, powdered, in a gold-laced coat, pumps, and white silk stockings.' At the gallows and the wheel--the axe was a rarity--Monsieur Paris, as it was the episcopal mode among his brother Professors of the provinces, Monsieur Orleans, and the rest, to call him, presided in this dainty dress. And who among the company at Monseigneur's reception in that seventeen hundred and eightieth year of our Lord, could possibly doubt, that a system rooted in a frizzled hangman, powdered, gold-laced, pumped, and white-silk stockinged, would see the very stars out!

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us, we were all going direct to Heaven, we were all going direct the other way--in short, the period was so. far like the present period, that some of its noisiest authorities insisted on its being received, for good or for evil, in the superlative degree of comparison only.

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