Jack was almost afraid of speaking; but at length he summoned courage to call out "Mother!" "Who's there?" asked a faint voice from the bed. There’s that old gentleman at the end of the table—Bullding his name is. One of the coolies held the paper lantern. It added to the picturesqueness of the Sha-mien night to observe these gaily coloured lanterns dancing hither and yon like June fireflies in a meadow. If I were a clean, free man—We’ll have to talk of all these things.
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