It rained slightly, and a thick mist gathered in the air, and obscured the beautiful prospect. The Protestant Flagellant, who whipped his soul rather than his body, who made self-denial the rack and the boot, who believed that on Sunday it was sacrilegious to smile, blasphemous to laugh! Spurlock had gone back spiritually three hundred years. Bowing to the stranger, the woollen-draper very politely requested to know his business. "At length, my vengeance is complete. Like the nuns, she hardly ever looked in a mirror. Immediately after it, he was off again, and that, let me tell you, was the last anyone saw of him.
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