She recalled how she had stretched out her arms toward the magic blue horizon. “Could you play ‘Fiddler on the Roof’?” father Thomas pleaded. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller's view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed. ” “Quite true,” she answered briskly, “and thanks to you I have succeeded.
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