To have written a short story in a week was rather a remarkable feat. The floor was thickly strewn with sawdust and shavings; and across the room ran a long and wide bench, furnished at one end with a powerful vice; next to which three nails driven into the boards served, it would appear from the lump of unconsumed tallow left in their custody, as a substitute for a candlestick. If I am to die in the attempt, then so be it. " "Comin'! comin'!" returned the constable, shuffling towards him. By many a highwayman many a draught Of nutty-brown ale at Saint Giles's was quaft, Until the old lazar-house chanced to fall down, And the broad-bottom'd bowl was removed to the Crown. “Why not?” He asked. A feeling of inexplicable awe crept over the carpenter as the sounds died away.
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