Lord bless you marm! we sees plenty on 'em in our purfession. 3. S. Little more’n a week. “You will have some tea?” she asked. " "And I trust you will never have occasion to weep again, my poor soul," replied Wood, setting down his lantern, and brushing a few drops from his eyes, "unless it be tears of joy. ” Ennison hesitated for a moment. Harkee," he added, "Mr. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.
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