This is grace I am saying! Oh! my dear! all the joy and weeping of life are mixed in me now and all the gratitude. One Friday afternoon, in this pleasant month, it chanced that Mr. “The dawn!” said Miss Miniver, with her glasses reflecting the fire like pools of blood-red flame. Having secured this implement, he burst from his conductor, and, leaping into the hatch, as clowns generally spring into the clockfaces, when in pursuit of harlequin in the pantomime,—that is, back foremost,— broke into a fit of loud and derisive laughter, kicking his heels merrily all the time against the boards.
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