The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. " "It's a hopeless job," grumbled Blueskin, "and harm will come of it. " "My father!" exclaimed Thames, in the utmost astonishment; "let me see it!" "Here it is," returned Jack, producing a small picture in a case set with brilliants.
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