“MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. " "Most likely," observed Jonathan, with a slight sneer; "the ghost of some highwayman who has just breathed his last in Newgate, no doubt. Pausing with the intention of turning back, he glanced in the direction of the village church, the tower of which could just be seen through the trees. So he made merry at the dinner table, told comic stories, and was astonished at the readiness with which she grasped the comic side of life.
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