With his chisel so fine, tra la! "There!" cried the boy, leaping from the stool, and drawing back a few paces on the bench to examine his performance,—"that'll do. Everywhere else—the law, medicine, the Stock Exchange—prejudice bars us. "I'm afraid, Jack, you'll come to the gallows," observed the smith; "buth if you do, I'll go to Tyburn to see you. "Curse me, if I don't think all the world means to cross the Thames this fine night," observed Ben. It is bad policy.
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