the muzzle of the pistol close to his ear, he fired, and fell back
senseless at the exertion. The animal staggered, and dropped down dead.

Meanwhile Clifford's comrade, profiting by the surprise and sudden panic
of the officer, was already out of reach, and darting across the common,
he and his ragged courser speedily vanished.




CHAPTER XXXII

Lose I not
With him what fortune could in life allot?
Lose I not hope, life's cordial?
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
In fact, the lessons he from prudence took
Were written in his mind as in a book;
There what to do he read, and what to shun,
And all commanded was with promptness done.
He seemed without a passion to proceed,
. . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Yet some believed those passions only slept!
CRABBE.

Relics of love, and life's enchanted spring!
A. WATTS: On burning a Packet of Letters.

Many and sad and deep
Were the thoughts folded in thy silent breast!