"Ah! Terry O'Flaherty!" vociferated Jonathan, in a tone that betrayed hot the slightest discomposure. Shotbolt?" rejoined the executioner. . In spite of all this, he grew daily better and stronger, and his spirits revived. If there is, it’s a mere wrapping—there’s better underneath. His name was Marvel, and his avocation, which was as repulsive as his looks, was that of public executioner. Wood having disposed of the brandy, and pronounced himself much better, hurried close to the fire-side, and informed his friend in a few words of the inhospitable treatment he had experienced from the gentlemen of the Mint; whereupon Mr.
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