You cannot—shall not retreat. You tried bravely enough to hide your preference, to look at us all with the same eyes, to speak to us in the same tone. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. Sheppard is one, no doubt," observed Mrs. Michelle awoke suddenly, violently. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller's view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. "I am sorry. ‘Hates doing the pretty. The sounds that reach the ear, and the objects that meet the eye, are all calculated to awaken a train of sad and serious contemplation.
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