" "Don't say anything about it, dear Mrs. Her head had been shaved, and around it was swathed a piece of rag, in which a few straws were stuck. Jolly nose! he who sees thee across a broad glass Beholds thee in all thy perfection; And to the pale snout of a temperate ass Entertains the profoundest objection. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. Strike the gag, Blueskin.
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