Steeples toppled, and towers reeled beneath its fury. Now Owen Wood had one fair child, Unlike her mother, meek and mild; Her love the draper strove to gain, But she repaid him with disdain. Just now my best ones are all taken. But if not himself, there would be another soon enough. He did not disturb any of this litter, but left it as a mark of his prowess. “He is evidently a friend of Mrs. Wood's," was the reply. ‘Dead then, is he?’ ‘If I could say that he is dead, it would give me very much satisfaction.
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