Austin, or any man of similar dimensions, would have found wholly impossible. In this cell was a huntsman, who had fractured his skull while hunting, and was perpetually hallooing after the hounds;—in that, the most melancholy of all, the grinning gibbering lunatic, the realization of "moody madness, laughing wild. Oh! Christ! de door's shut! It musht have schwung to during de schuffle!" "Shut!" exclaimed Wild. Such ambitions as he had were stereotyped and material. "Who is it, Bess?" "How should I know?" replied Edgeworth Bess.
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