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Henry Clay, thirteen cents in Hong-Kong and two-bits in that dear old New York. The sun was setting in spectacular multicolored streams beyond Whitefield Park. “Certainly her voice is far more musical. Wood," said she, in the deep, hoarse accents of consumption; "and may God Almighty bless and reward you for your kindness! You were always the best of masters to my poor husband; and now you've proved the best of friends to his widow and orphan boy. " He signalled to Ah Cum; and the two of them crossed on foot into the city. ‘I want a word with you, my lad.
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