Don't lay it all to the boy. Gerald, I mean, not Madame Valade. Again returning to the main road, he passed through Clapton; and turning off on the left, arrived at the foot of Stamford Hill. On the groundfloor the shutters were closed, or, to speak more correctly, altogether nailed up, and presented a very singular appearance, being patched all over with the soles of old shoes, rusty hobnails, and bits of iron hoops, the ingenious device of the former occupant of the apartment, Paul Groves, the cobbler, to whom we have before alluded.
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