Getting back the ice was rather a serious affair. Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. One’s got to be a better man than one’s father, or what is the good of successive generations? Life is rebellion, or nothing. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction. A sense of impending disaster was upon him. “Life—things—I don’t think her prospects now—Hopeful outlook. The only circumstance which served to awaken a darker feeling in his breast was, that his implacable foe Jonathan Wild had survived the wound inflicted by Blueskin, and was slowly recovering.
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