"Where is it?" "Are you the mother of this child?" inquired the person who had first spoken, addressing Mrs. He looked at her with an expression of comical despair. He would always see the picture of the huge, raw-boned Dutchman, haranguing and thundering the word of God into the dull ears of South Sea Islanders, who, an hour later, would be carrying fruit penitently to their wooden images. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. Then the storm broke.
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