But," said the fellow, with a laugh, "he soon contrived to make his way out on it, though. “Sometimes it is not bad. And, lastly, to the Seven Cities o' Refuge, in the New Mint. Standing on tiptoe, on a joint-stool, placed upon the bench, with his back to the door, and a clasp-knife in his hand, this youngster, instead of executing his appointed task, was occupied in carving his name upon a beam, overhead.
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