Then, one night, he glanced up to behold Ruth and Rollo in the doorway. A full-curled wig descended half-way down his back and shoulders; a neckcloth of "right Mechlin" was twisted round his throat so tightly as almost to deprive him of breath, and threaten him with apoplexy; he had lace, also, at his wrists and bosom; gold clocks to his hose, and red heels to his shoes. " "If I do, I care not," rejoined Wild; "I shall have lived to see you hanged. " "If he had only been my father!—McClintock!" "God didn't standardize human beings, Ruth; no grain of wheat is like another. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth.
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