They found Ruth reading to Spurlock, whose shoulders and head were propped by pillows. You must forgive the poet’s license I take. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller's view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. "What's become of Ruth?" "Gone to her room. "'Sdeath!" cried Hogarth, aside to the poet. ” “I am frightened of Sir John,” he said, “but I suggest that we risk it.
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