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PAUL CLIFFORD.
247

Oh! but I members vot a night it vas vhen poor Judy died; the vind vhistled like mad, and the rain tumbled about as if it had got a holiday; and there the poor creature lay raving just over ed of this room we sits in! Laus-a-me, vot a sight it vas!"

Here Dummie paused, and seemed to recall in imagination the scene he had witnessed; but over the mind of Long Ned a ray of light broke slowly.

"Whew!" said he, lifting up his fore-finger, "whew! I smell a rat; this stolen child, then, was no other than Paul; but, pray, to whom did the house belong? for that fact Harry never communicated to me. I only heard the owner was a lawyer, or parson, or some such thing!"

"Vy now, I'll tell you, but don't be glimflashey. So, you see, ven Judy died, and Harry was scragged, I vas the only von living who vas up to the secret; and vhen Mother Lob vas a taking a drop to comfort her vhen Judy vent off, I hopens a great box in which poor Judy kept her duds and rattletraps, and surely I finds at the bottom of the box hever so many letters and sich like,—