On the same day, moreover, which, by a
curious coincidence, was the birthday of the Chevalier de Saint George, mobs
were collected together in the streets, and the health of that prince was publicly
drunk under the title of James the Third; while, in many country towns, the bells
were rung, and rejoicings held, as if for a reigning monarch:—the cry of the
populace almost universally being, "No King George, but a Stuart!"
The adherents of the Chevalier de Saint George, we have said, were lavish in
promises to their proselytes. I'd like to shake you until your bones rattled; but the bones of a
Roundhead wouldn't rattle to any purpose. From the portals of the hotel—scarcely fifty yards from the canal—one saw the
blank face of the ancient city of Canton. “Yeah, I know. A cup of lies. Gianfrancesco never suspected that I had my
own reasons for wanting you for my wife.
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