"Now stand before me, Poll. The path he had selected conducted him to his mother's humble dwelling. Nine years ago, I was honest—was happy. Here, might be seen a poor fellow whose teeth were knocked down his throat, spluttering out the most tremendous menaces, and gesticulating like a madman: there, another, whose nose was partially slit, vented imprecations and lamentations in the same breath. “Thank you both for treating me for all the world like I was your child.
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