Wood's daughter,—to whom, I've heard tell, he was attached years ago,—was brought up, his courage forsook him altogether, and he trembled, and could scarcely stand. "Come here," said the petticoated tyrant. Here he obtained some breakfast, and mounting the hill turned off into the fields on the right. Baptist Kettleby (for so was the Master named) was a "goodly portly man, and a corpulent," whose fair round paunch bespoke the affection he entertained for good liquor and good living. In these waters the shell has about given out.
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