"Let me go first," said Blueskin; "the dogs know me. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. You are not ‘Alcide. His business has thriven; legacies have unexpectedly dropped into his lap; and, to crown all, he has made a large fortune by a lucky speculation in South-Sea stock,—made it, too, where so many others have lost fortunes, your humble servant amongst the number—ha! ha! In a word, Sir, Mr. Tombs were desecrated, beautiful statues toppled, and the colorful shops that she had been enchanted by along the canal had been closed or burned.
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