THE DOVER ROAD 



245 



of the scene of this Shakesperean interlude, gave novel 

 after wonderful novel to an astonished world, which was 

 never sated with a humour and an observation of life which 

 were indeed Shakesperean ; but kept craving and . 

 calling for more, and for more — till the magi- Jte> 

 cian's brain was hurt, and the magic pen 

 began to move painfully and with labour, 

 and the chair on Gad's Hill was found 

 one June morning to be empty for ever. 



I remember the shock of that announce- 

 ment well. It was as if some pulse in 



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'/'At- Xuns' Houses, Rochester. 



the nation's heart had stopped beating. There was as 

 it were a feeling that some great embodied joy had 



