" "I tell 'ee what, saltwater," said Ben, "I'll lay you my fare—and that'll be two shillin'—I'm back in an hour. To prevent the leaves from blowing about, should a blow develop, he distributed paper weights. ” Mr. My, um, my curfew. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. The solemn strokes were immediately answered by a multitude of chimes, sounding across the Thames, amongst which the deep note of Saint Paul's was plainly distinguishable. The only part of his otherwise-interesting countenance, to which one could decidedly object, was the mouth; a feature that, more than any other, is conceived to betray the animal propensities of the possessor.
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