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. “Vee!” said Miss Stanley, “you hear what your father says!” Miss Stanley struggled with emotion. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes. We are in love. He was pretty successful in Manchester,—a town which may be said to have been the head-quarters of the disaffected.
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