She’ll find it argues (when at length she loses it)
A sad ambition in the fool that uses it!
Now get you ready.
Exit Norma.
——:o:——
Hamlet’s meditation on the new station of the Midland Railway at St. Pancras:—
See what an incubus sits on our city?
Pentonville’s gloom, the front of a huge workhouse
A draught like ice to palsy and to pierce;
A station like a leaden Limbo-waste,