"Nobody has so much cause for complaint as me," growled Austin. We're to be given a treat to-night. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing. “Dear me, what a relief! If I had had any nerves that man would have trampled upon them long ago. It had rained during the night, and the patch-work pavement was greasy with mud. ” “She can barely move! You took her limbs!” “You provided her with new ones, my dear. Show him no quarter, Poll. We close the chapter. Satisfied, as he thought, that he had nothing to apprehend, the boy resumed his task, chanting, as he plied his knife with redoubled assiduity, the following—not inappropriate strains:— THE NEWGATE STONE.
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