piteously sniffing on the stool of penitence, attracted her attention as she passed him, and made her stop good-humouredly to speak a word to the little prisoner before she opened the door.
“You foolish boy,” she said, “why don’t you beg Mr. Dempster’s pardon, and hold your tongue about the ghost?”
“Eh!—but I saw t’ ghaist,” persisted Jacob Postlethwaite, with a stare of terror and a burst of tears.
“Stuff and nonsense! You saw nothing of the kind. Ghost indeed! What ghost----”
“I beg your
in the poorest as in the richest prospect that the face of the earth can show. There is surely a reason for this want of inborn sympathy between the creature and the creation around it, a reason which may perhaps be found in the widely-differing destinies of man and his earthly sphere. The grandest