” “I came here to talk reasonably, Mr. When the turnkey, next morning, stepp'd into his room, The sight of the hole in the wall struck him dumb; The sheriff's black bracelets lay strewn on the ground, But the lad that had worn 'em could nowhere be found. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. We've got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again. Sometimes the moon was totally eclipsed; at others, it shed a wan and ghastly glimmer over the masses rolling in the firmament. There, that sounds frightfully involved, doesn’t it, but perhaps you can make out what I mean.
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