On their return, the jailers raised up Jonathan, who was weltering in his blood, and who appeared to be dying. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness. " "Vot o' that?" chuckled Abraham. "Do you call neglecting your work, and singing flash songs nothing? Zounds! you incorrigible rascal, many a master would have taken you before a magistrate, and prayed for your solitary confinement in Bridewell for the least of these offences.
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