"You were a little out of your head. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. Passing the old rectory, and still older church, with its reverend screen of trees, and slowly ascending a hill side, from whence he obtained enchanting peeps of the spire and college of Harrow, he reached the cluster of well-built houses which constitute the village of Neasdon. The crown has passed from the brow of one monarch to that of another.
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