Another horseman followed quickly at the heels of the first; but just as he passed the spot where Jack stood, his steed missed its footing, and fell. She had recourse to the torn off strip of petticoat again, and blowing her nose with an air of determination, sniffed back the tears. There are no funerals among the poor, only burials. Courtlaw, who was sitting by the bedside, bent over him. Huge trees obscured the view of it. She peered into the darkness. A young man with shiny frock coat and very high collar, advanced towards her languidly. They are rather a long way off, but you could write to them.
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