But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. Traversing Angel Court, and Green Arbour Court,—celebrated as one of Goldsmith's retreats,—he speedily reached Seacoal Lane, and pursuing the same course, which he and Thames had formerly taken, arrived at the yard at the back of Jonathan's habitation. A stout female stood in the aperture, an oil lamp in her hand. She laughed a little contemptuously. " "A white wall is a fool's paper, Jack,—remember that," rejoined Wood. Why should some things and not others open the deeps?” “Well, that might, after all, be an outcome of selection—like the preference for blue flowers, which are not nearly so bright as yellow, of some insects.
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