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A PICTURE-BOOK
that miserable theatre, hissed by that miserable audience!
“This very evening a poor hearse has driven out of the gate of the town; not a single being accompanied it. There lay upon it a suicide, our painted and derided hero. The driver was the only attendant; no one followed, no one except the Moon. In an angle of the churchyard wall is the self-murdered laid; nettles will soon spring up thereon; there will grave-diggers cast thorns and weeds from other graves.
