Irreton. E. At this terrible juncture, Jack maintained his composure,—a smile played upon his face before the cap was drawn over it,—and the last words he uttered were, "My poor mother! I shall soon join her!" The rope was then adjusted, and the cart began to move. Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. You tell me he didn't like the stuff.
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