Chapter 42 THE HUT ON THORNE WASTE

Hind. Are all our horses and our arms in safety?

Furbo. They feed, like Pluto's palfreys, under ground.

Our pistols, swords, and other furniture,

Are safely locked up at our rendezvous.

Prince of Prigs' Revels.

The hut on Thorne Waste, to which we have before incidentally alluded, and whither we are now about to repair, was a low, lo

            
            

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