I have often felt before that it is only when one has nothing to say that one can write easy poetry. Taking up a link, which was blazing beside him, he walked across the room; and touching a spring in the wall, a secret door flew open. It was lent me by a countryman o' mine; but I paid him back in his own coin—ha! ha!" "A countryman of yours, Terry?" "Ay, and a noble one, too, Quilt—more's the pity! You've heard of the Marquis of Slaughterford, belike?" "Of course; who has not? He's the leader of the Mohocks, the general of the Scourers, the prince of rakes, the friend of the surgeons and glaziers, the terror of your tribe, and the idol of the girls!" "That's him to a hair?" cried Terence, rapturously. There she sought and at last found 107A, one of those heterogeneous piles of offices which occupy the eastern side of the lane.
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