"Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. And, snatching the spike from Thames, he struck the janizary a severe blow on the head. Adieu! my charmer. "By my shoul!" he exclaimed, smacking his lips, "dat ish goot—very goot. "Kiss me. .
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