"Shotbolt! by—" cried Austin, as the captive was dragged forth. With what airs we human atoms invest ourselves! What ridiculous fancies of our importance! We believe we have destinies, when we have only destinations: that we are something immortal, when each of us is in truth only the repository of a dream. “I hope that it has not done any harm. Arrived there, the porter thundered at the massive door of the Lodge, which was instantly opened—Shotbolt's note having been received just before. "Put down your burthen, monster!" shouted Wood, pointing an immense blunderbuss at him.
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