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"Well, sir, what do you want?" said Tiffles. "If you please, sir," said the singular being, in a cracked voice, "yure the pannyrarmer, a'n't ye?" "Not exactly, my lad, but I own it. And who are you?" "My name's Stoop, if you please, sir." Mr. Boolpin broke out with a laugh, which made the building reverberate. "It's the village idiot," said he.
It was situated over a drug store, and was owned by the druggist, Mr. Boolpin, who was universally regarded as the meanest man in the village. As the three drew near the door, Mr. Boolpin, strongly smelling of aloes, and carrying a pestle in his hand, came out to greet them. He, in common with all the inhabitants, knew that the "pannyrarmer folks" were in town.
The people drawn are such as we have all known, sketched without exaggeration, and actuated by constantly occurring motives. The book is anonymous, but we believe the author will yet be known to fame, Tiffles and Patching are true to life, and the exhibition of the 'Pannyrarmer' worthy of Dickens. THE LIFE OF JESUS. By ERNEST RENAN, Membre de l'Institut.
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