Even The Best Of Us Are Thrown

Violence Is Sometimes A Duty.

A Hound It Was, An Enormous Coal-black Hound, But Not Such A Hound As Mortal Eyes Have Ever Seen. Fire Burst From Its Open Mouth, Its Eyes Glowed With A Smouldering Glare, Its Muzzle And Hackles And Dewlap Were Outlined In Flickering Flame. Never In The Delirious Dream Of A Disordered Brain Could Anything More Savage, More Appalling, More Hellish Be Conceived Than That Dark Form And Savage Face Which Broke Upon Us Out Of The Wall Of Fog.

Well, I'm A Bacteriologist, You Know. I Live In A Nine-hundred-diameter Microscope. I Can Hardly Claim To Take Serious Notice Of Anything That I Can See With My Naked Eye.

I Feel That There Is Reason Lurking In You Somewhere, So We Will Patiently Grope Round For It.

It May Have Been A Comedy, Or It May Have Been A Tragedy. It Cost One Man His Reason, It Cost Me A Blood-letting, And It Cost Yet Another Man The Penalties Of The Law. Yet There Was Certainly An Element Of Comedy. Well, You Shall Judge For Yourselves.