. It is only the women matter. The easel and palette having been packed up, and the canvass carefully removed by Austin, the party took leave of the prisoner, who was so much abstracted that he scarcely noticed their departure. When first brought under consideration, she was a miserable and forlorn object; squalid in attire, haggard in looks, and emaciated in frame. "Oh, lud! what's that?" exclaimed a female voice, from an adjoining room. “My cab with all that luggage would give the whole show away. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble.
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