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THE light had gone down on the last of the days through which, according to the doctor's prophecy, Jim Lomax was to live to see that light.
Poor Jim's last sun sank to his rest upon such cloud-pillows of purple and red, and drew a curtain of such gorgeous colours round him in the western sky, as it would have very much puzzled any earthly monarch to have matched, though Ruskin himself had chosen the colours, and Turner had been the man to lay them on. Of course some of this red sunset flickered and faded upon the chimneypots and window-panes -- rare luxuries, by the bye, those window-panes -- of Blind Peter; but there it came in a modified degree only -- this blessed sign-manual of an Almighty Power -- as all earthly and heavenly blessings should come to the poor.