We've ridden post all the way, and I'm horribly tired, or you wouldn't have mastered me so easily. Just as the attendants were preparing to lower the corpse into the earth, Jack fell on his knees beside the coffin, uttering the wildest exclamations of grief, reproaching himself with the murder of his mother, and invoking the vengeance of Heaven on his own head. Wood, whose loss I shall ever deplore. '—'Oh! yes we are,' says he. Burn your palette and your easel.
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