A door in this house opened upon the yard. " "Poor soul!" ejaculated her son. ” For a moment or two he did not speak. Her two sticks were bare and brown, her snugged canvas drab, her brasses dull, her anchor mottled with rust. "Do you take me for a thiefcatcher, like Jonathan Wild, that you dare to affront me by such a proposal?" "No offence, Sir," rejoined the jailer, humbly.
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