"How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like death!" Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. ‘I knew I should find you still here. I am on my way to an aunt who lives in Hartford, Connecticut. The only departure which he made from the fashion of the period, was in respect to the peruke—an article he could never be induced to wear.
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