Those that are so curiously crowded together in the village are sinks of foul smell, and may be of worse--places where, if fever come, it takes hold and quits not.

His superior requests him earnestly to refrain awhile and to take rest, to recruit himself with a holiday--even orders him to desist from overmuch labour.

The man's mind is in it, and he cannot obey.

What is the result?
Some lovely autumn day, at a watering-place, you may perchance be strolling by the sea, with crowds of well-dressed, happy people on the one side, and on the other the calm sunlit plain where boats are passing to and fro.

A bath-chair approaches, and a young man clad in black gets out of it, where some friendly iron railings afford him a support for his hand.