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OF WILDFELL HALL.
157
CHAPTER X.
THE NEIGHBOUR.
Dec. 25th, 1823. Another year is gone. My little Arthur live and thrives. He is healthy but not robust, full of gentle playfulness and vivacity, already affectionate, and susceptible of passions and emotions it will be long ere he can find words to express. He has won his father's heart at last; and now my constant terror is, lest he should be ruined by that father's thoughtless indulgence. But I must beware of my own weakness too, for I never knew till
