Mr. Do you know whoso portrait this is?" "I do not," replied Thames, repressing his tears, "but I believe it to be the portrait of my father. Austin, or any man of similar dimensions, would have found wholly impossible. From long experience with both races he had acquired definitions, but none snugly applied to this girl. While he was dragged along in the manner just described, Thames looked around to ascertain, if possible, where he was; for he did not put entire faith in Jonathan's threat of sending him to the round-house, and apprehensive of something even worse than imprisonment.
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