Probably a sick man's whim. “MY DEAR FATHER,” she wrote,—“I have been thinking hard about everything since I was sent to this prison. Crossing several fields, newly mown, or filled with lines of tedded hay, she arrived, not without great exertion, at the summit of a hill. You have grown into my life, and I cannot tear you out. The air was sharp and bracing, and the leaves which had taken their autumnal tints were falling from the trees. The man lingered. Ah Cum explained. " "You might have added 'then'," said Miss Spurlock, drily. But his own ferocity was less now that she was disarmed. A sarcastic smile seemed to play upon the chief-taker's lips; and abashed at his own irresolution, the lad went on.
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