She taught him all the lore she had; about bird-life and tree-life and the changing mysteries of the sea. At last some anodyne formed itself from these exercises, and, with eyelashes wet with such feeble tears as only three-o’clock-in-the-morning pathos can distil, she fell asleep. "It's wretched enough, indeed, Sir," rejoined the widow; "but, poor as it is, it's better than the cold stones and open streets. "I am a Yale man," said Ah Cum.
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