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74 And still with weariness and wo  The fatal gift is won; Many a radiant head lies low, Ere half its race be run.

group of Maynard's friends that gathered round him, only waited till Booth had changed his dress to adjourn to a neighbouring tavern for supper. The excitement needed wine and mirth to carry it off. Suppers were the ne plus ultra of human invention; it could go no further, and was obliged to degenerate; dinner is too much matter of business, it is a necessity: now, a necessity is too like a duty ever to be pleasant. Besides, it divides the day instead of winding it up. I do not think, moreover, that people were ever meant to enjoy themselves in the day time. Day belongs to the earthlier deities—the stern, the harsh, and the cold. Gnomes are the spirits of daily hours. Toil, thought, and strife, beset us: we have to work, to quarrel, and to struggle: we have to take our neighbours in; or, at least, to avoid their doing so by us. We are false, designing, and cautious; for, after all, the