fully ill,
indeed. But he has a great soul in a feeble body. The ministers, the
country hope the utmost from him. After supper, according to custom, Mr.
Lambert assembles his modest household, of whom George Warrington may
be said quite to form a part; and as he prays for all travellers by land
and water, Theo and her sister are kneeling together. And so, as the
ship speeds farther and farther into the West, the fond thoughts pursue
it; and the night passes, and the sun rises.

A day or two more, and everybody is at his books or his usual work. As
for George Warrington, that celebrated dramatist is busy about another
composition. When the tragedy of Carpezan had run some thirty or
twoscore nights, other persons of genius took possession of the theatre.

There may have been persons who wondered how the town could be so fickle
as ever to tire of such a masterpiece as the Tragedy--who could not bear
to see the actors dressed in other habits, reciting other men's verses;
but George, of a sceptical turn of mind, took the fate of his Tragedy
very philosophically, and pocketed the proceeds with much quiet
satisfaction. From Mr. Dodsley, the bookseller, he had the usual
complement of a hundred pounds; from the manager of the theatre two
hundred or more; and such praises from the critics and his friends, that
he set to work to prepare another piece, with which he hoped to achieve
even greater successes than by his first performance.

Over these studies, and the other charming business which occupies him,
months pass away. Happy business! Happiest time of youth and life,
when love is first spoken and returned; when the dearest eyes are daily
shining welcome, and the fondest lips never tire of whispering their
sweet secrets; when the parting look that accompanies "Good night!"
gives delightful warning of to-morrow; when the heart is so overflowing
with love and happiness, that it has to spare for all the world; when
the day closes with glad prayers, and opens with joyful hopes; when
doubt seems cowardice, misfortune impossible, poverty only a sweet trial
of constancy! Theo's elders, thankfully remembering their own prime,
sit softly by and witness this pretty comedy performed by their young
people. And in one of his later letters, dutifully written to his wife
during a temporary absence from home, George Warrington records how he
had been to look up at the windows of the dear old house in Dean Street,
and wondered who was sittin