‘Now,’ he said, ‘if someone would close the curtains and light a joss-stick, I have here for your delight some twenty-four-carat black Nepalese cannabis resin which should be smoked immediately on account of it being seriously good shit.’
He wrote a letter to Bob Sample, one of the most popular A-double-L-part preachers in the country, who like a little fice, or cur dog, would rail behind my back.
She made some paltry excuse and left.
An Author who points his ſatyr at a great man, is to be looked upon in the ſame view with the engineer who ſignalized himſelf by this ungenerous practice.
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