Thoothing my thoul to thlumberth,
Fond memorieth bearing to me,
Of the patht, in endleth numberth.
I thigh ath I think how yearth have thped,
How joy hath left me to thorrow;
My heart now thleepeth the thleep of the dead;
Will it waken to gladneth to-morrow?
THE NIMBLE BANK-NOTE.
“And he rose with a sigh,