In the midst of them there was a cart with a man in it—and that man was Jack—my son Jack—they were going to hang him. If you do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the rules is very easy. He had a handsome, jolly-looking face; stood six feet two in his stockings; and measured more than a cloth-yard shaft across the shoulders—athletic proportions derived from his father the dragoon. A momentary petrifaction, and terror had lent wings to her feet. Those who had seen him slumbering, averred that he slept with his eyes open. G'night, kids.
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