Perhaps he had lost his loved ones and was wandering over the world seeking forgetfulness. Hurrying down the Haymarket, he was arrested by a crowd who were collected round a street-singer. " "Hear me, Blueskin," said Jonathan, restraining his choler. As he passed along the main thoroughfare, he heard his own name pronounced, and found that it was a hawker, crying a penny history of his escapes.
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