” “And the man stands as the master at the mouth of the den. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the blank face of the ancient city of Canton. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. ’ ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong. It was as if her aesthetic sense had become inflamed. It isn’t pretty, but we’re made so.
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