And Fate, sitting aloft in the careless expanse of ether, rolled her destined chariots thundering along the pre-ordained highways of heaven, crushing a soul here and a life there with the tragic completeness of a steam-roller, granite-smashing, steam-fed, irresistible. And butter was churned with a twang in it, and rustics danced, and sheep that had fed in clover were "blasted," like poor Bonduca's budding prospects. And, from the calm nonchalance of a Wessex hamlet, another novel was launched into a world of reviews, where the multitude of readers is not as to their external displacements, but as to their subjective experiences.
[The End.
"The Last Straw."—For further particulars apply to the gleaners.
The Weather and the Crops.—Note. Always have your hair cut very short in the hottest weather.
Gardening Amusement for Colwell-Hatchney.—Spinning turnip tops.
Advice to the Farmer.—Keep your weather eye open.