Lord, I am sixty. Let us proceed with our tale. As he passed out he saw in the hall a quietly dressed man with keen grey eyes, talking to one of the footmen. There was no disgust in Ruth's heart, only an infinite pity; for only the pitiful understand. 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.
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