A struggle of the most terrific kind now ensued. He fell backwards on his butt, the wind knocked out of him. He went in and leaned, panting, against one wall. “My charm of manner, I suppose. If we were to wait till a prig was rightfully nabbed, we might tarry till doomsday. This time he couldn't get far. This circumstance produced no further alteration in his demeanour except that he endeavoured to abstract himself from the surrounding scene, and bend his attention to the prayers which the ordinary was reciting.
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