” “Yes. 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. She produced from the depths of her pride the ugly investigatory note of the modern district visitor. "Jack!" Her son averted his gaze. There lay upon this stand a book bound in limp black leather—the Holy Bible. Wood, in deploring his wild career, adverted to the melancholy condition to which it had reduced his mother.
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