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Updated: May 17, 2025
No sooner had this happened than Uncle Job gasped, and sank down as if he'd been in a fit. "What is it what is it, Uncle Job?" said I. "O good God!" says he, under the straw. "What?" says I. "Boney!" he groaned out. "Who?" says I. "Bonaparty," he said. "The Corsican ogre. O that I had got but my new- flinted firelock, that there man should die!
But I haven't got my new- flinted firelock, and that there man must live. So lie low, as you value your life!" 'I did lie low, as you mid suppose. But I couldn't help peeping. And then I too, lad as I was, knew that it was the face of Bonaparte. Not know Boney? I should think I did know Boney. I should have known him by half the light o' that lantern.
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