The pages of this little book were in type and about to be sent for correction to my sister--who had been for some months in very delicate health--when she suddenly became still more gravely ill. The hand which had traced the words of love and veneration dedicated to our father's memory grew too feeble to hold a pen, and before the proofs of her little volume could be submitted to her for revision, my dear sister died. THE _ROXBURGHE PRESS_, FIFTEEN, VICTORIA STREET, WESTMINSTER.…
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