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There is something that inspires a feeling of inexpressible melancholy in sailing on a dark night upon the Thames. But there was, it insisted, no mobility in his face, no movement, nothing about him that warmed. It was only a few months ago that I told you you must come to London, and you only laughed at me. About nine o'clock, an immense mob collected before the Lodge at Newgate. Section 1. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now.
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