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OF THE GREAT MR.

BULL AND THE CELTIC AND SAXON VIEW OF HIM:.
AND SOMETHING OF RICHARD ROCKNEY Meanwhile India, our lubber giant, had ceased to kick a leg, and Ireland, our fever-invalid, wore the aspect of an opiate slumber.

The volcano we couch on was quiet, the gritty morsel unabsorbed within us at an armistice with the gastric juices.

Once more the personification of the country's prosperity had returned to the humming state of roundness.
Trade whipped him merrily, and he spun.
A fuller sketch of the figure of this remarkable emanation of us and object of our worship, Bull, is required that we may breathe the atmosphere of a story dealing with such very different views of the idol, and learn to tolerate plain-speaking about him.
Fancy yourself delayed by stress of weather at an inn or an excursion, and snapped up by some gossip drone of the district, who hearing whither you are bound, recounts the history and nature of the place, to your ultimate advantage, though you groan for the outer downpour to abate .-- Of Bull, then: our image, before the world: our lord and tyrant, ourself in short--the lower part of us.