” Sir John’s reply was incoherent. I keep it for my own drinking," he added in a lower tone. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. Home!— which I never hoped to see again.
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