. ’ The door opened and Saling entered again. I'll knock off at tea. " "And who is its mother?" asked Jonathan, in an eager whisper. As sure as he is now living, I'll pay him a visit in the Old Bailey before morning. Then the dagger’s point came in a whirling arc towards his face. "Come to my arms, Thames! Oh! dear! Oh! dear!" To repeat the questions and congratulations which now ensued, or describe the extravagant joy of the carpenter, who, after he had hugged his adopted son to his breast with such warmth as almost to squeeze the breath from his body, capered around the room, threw his wig into the empty fire-grate, and committed various other fantastic actions, in order to get rid of his superfluous satisfaction—to describe the scarcely less extravagant raptures of his spouse, or the more subdued, but not less heartfelt delight of Winifred, would be a needless task, as it must occur to every one's imagination.
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