Bulging out more in the middle than at the two extremities, it resembled an enormous cask set on its end, —a sort of Heidelberg tun on a large scale,—and this resemblance was increased by the small circular aperture—it hardly deserved to be called a door—pierced, like the bung-hole of a barrell, through the side of the structure, at some distance from the ground, and approached by a flight of wooden steps. It was an uproarious affair, for Rollo now knew that he had been grieviously betrayed: they were trying to kill him in a new way. "Excuse me," he said, plunging his fork into a fowl, and transferring it to his plate. ‘Well, what was I to think, miss? Martha never wrote nothing about you, and I did ask. She might be able to go on with biology, possibly even work upon the same questions that he dealt with.
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