Outside the door stood one of the soldiers. Under his arm he carried a thick, knotted crab-stick. “Umph!” he said, and regarded his letter doubtfully before consigning it to the pillar-box. Blank commissions, signed by the prince, to be filled up by the name of the person, who could raise a troop for his service, were liberally bestowed. He was carelessly dressed, and there were marks of unrest upon his features. "I shall want a bottle or two of sack, and a flask of usquebaugh. “Look round the table,” she said. His next occupation was to take out his pistols, examine the priming, and rub the flints. Gin is the poor man's friend,—his sole set-off against the rich man's luxury.
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