And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. ” “I can’t imagine what makes you fly out against everything like this,” said Miss Stanley to her niece. Hark ye, Blueskin," continued he, addressing that personage, who, in obedience to his commands, had, with great promptitude, driven out the rabble, and again secured the door, "a word in your ear. Who but you would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name of a river, not a Christian.
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