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Off Cudden Point, in the parish of Perranuthnoe, there lies buried in the sea, treasure enough to make anyone who finds it, one of the wealthiest persons in the whole county.
"Thart of it ah! thart of it hundreds o' times; but some'ow cudden never bring mysel' to the scratch o' not seein' th' Beacon any more. I can just see it from 'ere, you know. But there's not so many like me, an' gettin' fewer every day." "Yes," murmured Felix, "that I believe." "'Tes a 'and-made piece o' goods the land! You has to be fond of it, same as of your missis and yer chillen.
'One Devon man, he says to me, 'don' lave anotherr. We werr six days where we shuld ha' been tu; when we got back to the ship a cruiser had got her for gun-runnin'." "And what has become of Captain Pearse?" Prawle answered, "Zurr, I belave 'e went to China, 'tis onsartin." "He's not dead?" Prawle looked at me with a kind of uneasy anger. "Yu cudden' kell 'en! 'Tis true, mun 'll die zome day.
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