There sat Jack, evidently in the last stage of intoxication, with his collar opened, his dress disarranged, a pipe in his mouth, a bowl of punch and a halfemptied rummer before him,—there he sat, receiving and returning, or rather attempting to return,—for he was almost past consciousness,—the blandishments of a couple of females, one of whom had passed her arm round his neck, while the other leaned over the back of his chair and appeared from her gestures to be whispering soft nonsense into his ear. We must take the children—of any race—if we would teach knowledge. “Stop it!. It’s gone. ‘You don’t know him. This one was Henry Esmond, that one the melancholy Marius, and so forth and so on; never any villains. Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests.
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