“I think,” he said, “I was a little too mystical about beauty the other day. "To be sure, it's not surprising the poor little thing should be so marked; for, when I lay in the women-felons' ward in Newgate, where he first saw the light, or at least such light as ever finds entrance into that gloomy place, I had nothing, whether sleeping or waking, but halters, and gibbets, and coffins, and such like horrible visions, for ever dancing round me! And then, you know, Sir—but, perhaps, you don't know that little Jack was born, a month before his time, on the very day his poor father suffered. ’ Too late he saw his error. But while there's life there's hope. B. S. Sheppard, returning his embrace with all a parent's tenderness. " "That's but a short distance from here, sir. ’ There was a pause.
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