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"The Phœbe is bound to that port," again interrupted Mr Fellowes. Was this the brand of boy this Shagland Settlement bred, he wondered. If so, God help him and his precepts. Anson considered. "An' you promise to get Bill to let me off?".
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Conrad
"And begobs I meant ut too," cried Harry. "When Caleb Spencer says, 'All av ut' to me, ut's laugh at him I wull, and tell him it's meself wants none av ut." "Talking of Nelson," said Sir William, "have you heard the yarn that is told of Tom Cooke, the actor? He came on in the part of old Barnwell, and when stabbed forgot the words, and would have died speechless. His murderer whispered with agitation, 'For heaven's sake, say something—anything,' on which Tom, throwing up his little three-cornered [Pg 8]hat, shouted in his thick lisp, 'Nelson for ever!' and died amidst louder applause than was ever provoked by the finest strokes of Garrick or Siddons." Old Harry O'Dule's dream was about to be realised, Stanhope had assured him that he would see to it that he should play his whistle beneath Ireland's skies before another autumn dawned. "What you mean?" asked Anson suspiciously..
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