Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. Annabel saw it, and suddenly changed her tone. Hastening to the spot where he had tied his horse to a tree, he vaulted into the saddle, and rode off across the fields,—for he was fearful of encountering the hostile party,—till he reached the Edgeware Road. . ’ His friend held it out of the way. 1.
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