” “And you?” asked David Courtlaw. I know he is dead. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. The Jacobite. These convulsions occurred when Ann Veronica was about twelve. You feel that that smile is for you, the words are for you, the whole song is for you.
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