You must forgive the poet’s license I take. ” “I hope,” he answered, looking at her in some surprise, “that we shall have many more such to think about. ’ ‘What, a common soldier?’ ‘He was not a common soldier. Sheppard, vainly trying to discover a gleam of compassion in the thief-taker's inexorable countenance,—"Mercy! mercy!" "Pshaw!" rejoined Jonathan. Naturally it all came out then. "I have no sympathy," replied Prudence, "with a man who deliberately fuddles himself with strong drink. Now I ain’t saying as how that there Pottiswick—’ ‘How you talk,’ interrupted Melusine impatiently. The audience clapped more heartily. ‘Bon.
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