For a big-bellied glass is the palette I use, And the choicest of wine is my colour; And I find that my nose takes the mellowest hues The fuller I fill it—the fuller! IV. It's mighty lonesome down there for a man bred to cities. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. And mind, your life,—more than your life—hangs upon your choice. The policy of this step was immediately apparent.
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