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CHAPTER XXIV Spurlock's novel was a tale of regeneration. It exists because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from people in all walks of life. “I might go home, I don’t know. This person, whose age might be about forty, was attired in a brown double-breasted frieze coat, with very wide skirts, and a very narrow collar; a light drugget waistcoat, with pockets reaching to the knees; black plush breeches; grey worsted hose; and shoes with round toes, wooden heels, and high quarters, fastened by small silver buckles. . The face of the man who lay there was clearly visible. “They make me want to shout,” said Mr.
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