There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Arrived at Paddington, he struck across Marylebone Fields,—for as yet the New Road was undreamed of,—and never moderated his speed until he reached the city. John has made me so happy, I’ve been losing myself in him. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. Altogether, it was a hideous and revolting sight. “There is no—Good God!” he exclaimed.
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