From midnight until morning he was now left alone. I know all. Here the prisoners took exercise; and a quaint, but striking picture has been left of their appearance when so engaged, by the author of the English Rogue. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love. "What do you mean by that, sirrah?" cried Wood, reddening with anger. "Why, first," rejoined Austin, "there's Sir James Thornhill, historical painter to his Majesty, and the greatest artist of the day.
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