My boys are all Sandwich Island born. Supper was quickly served; the oldest bottle of wine was brought from the cellar; the strongest barrel of ale was tapped; but not one of the party could eat or drink—their hearts were too full. Spare me, and I'll be quiet—quiet —quiet!" "Mother!" said Jack, advancing towards her. "You are the son of Sir Montacute Trenchard, of Ashton-Hall, near Manchester.
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