William Kneebone, Of me, Sir, you shall never be bone. "A friend," replied Jonathan, uncocking the pistol, and placing it in his pocket. Below the window he saw two coolies carrying a coffin, which presently they callously dumped into a yawning pit. "And who is this Van Gal—Gal—what's his outlandish name?" "Van Galgebrok," replied the widow. I had no idea.
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