Then there was Tom Jarrot, the hackney-coachman, who was pitched off the box against yonder curbstone, and broke his leg. " "I feel it," replied Jack, in a tone of agony, "and I feel it more on my poor mother's account than my own. Beneath the hood it was evident that her rebellious hair was bound up with red silk, and fastened by some device in her ears (unless she had them pierced, which was too dreadful a thing to suppose!) were long brass filigree earrings. '" "Slave?" echoed Jack.
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