And then the fetters, which were still upon his legs:—how was he to get rid of them? Tired and dispirited, he still wandered on. " "Order those who choose to obey you," rejoined the lady scornfully. If you were a poet in need of rhymes, you had only to turn to a certain page. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. That is the dreadful truth. " "Come, jump up," cried Blueskin, mounting his steed, "and I'll soon wisk you to town. " "Mr.
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