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"Umph! I'm not so green as I look. I know whose they be. They're Ann's." "Lucy, my dear," exclaimed Miss Acton, "play 'Now, Goody, Please to Moderate,' or 'My Lodging is on the Cold Ground,' or 'Sally in our Alley.' I do not care which. They are all very beautiful, and I know no song, brother, that carries me back like 'Sally in our Alley.' Do you remember how finely our father used to sing it? He was at Dr Burney's one night, sir," said she, talking to Mr Lawrence, "when a famous Italian singer of that day—who was it now?—she was as yellow as a guinea, and her hoops were so large there were many doors she could not pass through—who was it now? But no matter; after my father had sung she stepped over to him, and curtsying as though she would sit before him, she said: 'I have often heard this song sung and thought nothing of it. But now, sir, I shall ever regard it as the loveliest composition in English music.'" "A relation, sir?" said the master of the Louisa Ann, addressing Captain Weaver, whom he had immediately perceived was not of the standing of the two Naval gentlemen..
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The deacon, a florid, full-whiskered man of about sixty, glowered about him. No one present thought of disputing his assertion. The deacon was a power in the community. "Me—Thomas Hanlin," was the answer, and a sailor made two or three steps and stood close to Old Jim. At the conclusion of the service, Deacon Ringold called a few of the leading church members together and to them spoke his mind thus: Wilson sighed. "How was I to know these things would happen, Mary? It's been hard haulin', I know, but someday it won't be so hard. Maybe now, you'd find it easier if you didn't shoulder everybody else's trouble, like you do—".
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