I have since received a most extraordinary letter from her. I know my son's voice too well. Life! Life and love! It makes me want to be always young, always strong, always devoting my life—and dying splendidly. It was a dull, foggy day, and the atmosphere was so thick and heavy, that, at eight o'clock, the curious who arrived near the prison could scarcely discern the tower of St. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words.
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