Certainly, we—that is Jarvis and I— knew nothing of it until after Mary’s death. Lucy kicked her side, then her wounded leg, dislodging her. Rattles were sprung; lanterns lighted, and hoisted at the end of poles; windows thrown open; doors unbarred; and, as if by magic, the street was instantaneously filled with a crowd of persons of both sexes, armed with such weapons as came most readily to hand, and dressed in such garments as could be most easily slipped on. She is setting out for Hartford, Connecticut. The Reaper is not sated yet.
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