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meanwhile, not only to ease his spent horse, but to wipe the mud
from his face, and shake the wet out of his hat-brim, which might
be capable of holding about half a gallon. After standing with the
bridle over his heavily-splashed arm, until the wheels of the mail
were no longer within hearing and the night was quite still again,
he turned to walk down the hill.

“After that there gallop from Temple Bar, old lady, I won’t trust
your forelegs till I get you on the level,” said this hoarse
messenger, glancing at his mare.

“’Recalled to life.’ That’s a Blazing strange message. Much of that
wouldn’t do for you, Jerry! I say, Jerry! You’d be in a Blazing bad
way, if recalling to life was to come into fashion, Jerry!”
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