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« Now universal England getteth drunk
And weareth now a suit of morrice-bells,
IN THREE VOLUMES.
PUBLISHED BY A. AND W. GALIGNANI,
AT THE ENGLISH, FRENCH, ITALIAN, GERMAN, AND SPANISA LIBRARY,
No 18, RUE VIVIENNE.
« Out of my door, you witch! you hag, you baggage! you polecat, you runnion!,
It was on a dark and gusty night of autumn, during the latter years of Oliver Cromwell's Protectorate, that a black covered cart, drawn by two horses of the same sable hue, emerged from the umbrageous' recesses of Ashdown forest, which, at that period, nearly extended to the northern extremity of Sussex. It was attended by two armed men, one of whom kept close to the horses' heads, while his companion, who was about a hundred paces in advance, and was provided with a dark lantern, occasionally directed its narrow stream of light upon the tufts of scattered trees and underwood into which the outskirts of the forest were broken up, earnestly fixed his eye upon them for a minute, and then exclaiming, u all safe! » instantly concealed his light and walked on, when the vehicle advanced to the posi