"Where to, master?" asked Ben, touching his woollen cap. "What in the world is it?" he asked. "Hark 'ee, Ben," said the old sailor, knocking the ashes from his pipe upon the hob; "you may try, but dash my timbers if you'll ever cross the Thames to-night. You Americans laugh at our custom of honouring our ancestors, our many-times great grandfathers.
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