Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. The air, perfumed with the delicious fragrance of the new-mown grass, was vocal with the melodies of the birds; the thick foliage of the trees was glistening in the sunshine; all nature seemed happy and rejoicing; but, above all, the serene Sabbath stillness reigning around communicated a calm to her wounded spirit. What was their surprise to find it vacant, and the prisoner gone! Jonathan, could scarcely believe his eyes. Fritz flailed against his mother wildly, crying generous tears. Kneebone, he took his departure.
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