“I have to go out. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. Heliers. I am safe while I am there, for I have had bolts fitted everywhere, and a pane of glass in the front door. Blueskin, you are a true friend. 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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