ToC On the night of Friday, the 26th of November, 1703, and at the hour of eleven, the door of a miserable habitation, situated in an obscure quarter of the Borough of Southwark, known as the Old Mint, was opened; and a man, with a lantern in his hand, appeared at the threshold. Me, I prefer to forget that I have such a father. “Stop this—this humbugging,” he explained. It was in no sense confessional; it was a state of mind in the patient the doctor had already anticipated.
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