The air was sweet with the perfume of flowers, and the melody of murmuring insects, the blue sky was cloudless, the heat of the sun was tempered by the heather-scented west wind. There all the loose characters thronged, assignations were openly made, and the spectators diverted themselves with the vagaries of its miserable inhabitants. The Well Hole 336 XIII. ‘Oh, the Frenchie. He continued alternately to be tossed in the air, or rolled in the kennel until he was borne out of sight.
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