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have given some guineas to have been rid of her || “ Nay," says the kind Quaker, “if she had any just now; for beginning to be curious in the com. l) view towards thee, that is no business of mine; paring the two dresses, she innocently began al and I should be far from desiring thee to inform description of mine ; and nothing terrified me so me." much as the apprehension lest she should impor. This alarmed me again; not that I feared tune me to show it, which I was resolved I would || trusting the good-humoured creature with it, if never agree to. But before it came to this, she there had been anything of just suspicion in her: pressed my girl to describe the tyhaia, or head but this affair was a secret I cared not to comdress; which she did so cleverly, that the Quaker municate to anybody. However, I say, this could not help saying mine was just such a one ; alarmed me a little ; for as I had concealed and after several other similitudes, all very vexa everything from her, I was willing to do so still; tious to me, out comes the kind motion to me to but as she could not bnt gather up abundance of let the ladies see my dress; and they joined their things from the girl's discourse, which looked toeager desires of it even to importunity.

wards me, so she was too penetrating to be put I desired to be excused, though I had little to off with such answers as might stop another's say at first why I declined it ; but at last it came || mouth. Only there was this double felicity in it, into my head to say it was packed up with my first, that she was not inquisitive to know or find other clothes that I had least occasion for, in || anything out, and not dangerous if she had known order to be sent on board the captain's ship; but the whole story. But, as I say, she could not that if we lived to come to Holland together, || but gather up several circumstances from the (which, by the way, I resolved should never girl's discourse, as particularly the name of Amy, happen), then, I told them, at unpacking my I) and the several descriptions of the Turkish dress clothes, they should see me dressed in it; but | which my friend the Quaker had seen, and taken they must not expect I should dance in it like the so much notice of, as I have said before. Lady Roxana, in all her fine things.

As for that, I might have turned it off by jestThis carried it off pretty well; and getting over ling with Amy, and asking her who she lived with this, got over most of the rest, and I began to be before she came to live with me? But that easy again ; and, in a word, that I may dismiss || would not do, for we had unhappily anticipated the story too as soon as may be, I got rid at last that way of talking, by having often talked how of my visitors, who I had wished gone two hours long Amy had lived with me, and which was still sooner than they intended it.

worse, by having owned formerly that I had had As soon as they were gone I run up to Amy | lodgings in the Pall-mall; so that all these things and gave vent to my passions, by telling her the corresponded too well. There was only one thing whole story, and letting her sce what mischiefs that helped me out with the Quaker, and that one false step of hers had like, unluckily, to have was the girl's having reported how rich Mrs Amy involved us all in; more, perhaps, than we could | was grown, and that she kept her coach. Now, ever have lived to get through. Amy was sen. || as there might be many more Mrs Amys besides sible of it enough, and was just giving her wrath || mine, so it was not likely to be my Amy, because a vent another way, viz., by calling the poor she was far from such a figure as keeping her girl all the damned jades and fools (and some- || coach; and this carried it off from the suspicions times worse names) that she could think of; in which the good friendly Quaker might have in the middle of which up comes my honest good her head. Quaker, and put an end to our discourse. The But as to what she imagined the girl had in Quaker came in smiling, (for she was always her head, there lay more difficully in that part a soberly cheerful), “ Well," says she, “thou art great deal, and I was alarmed at it very much, delivered at last; I come to jov thee of it ; I per- || for my friend the Quaker told me she observed ceived thou wert tired grievously of thy visitors.” || that the girl was in a great passion when she !

“ Indeed," says I, so I was; that foolish | talked of the habit, and more when I had been young girl held us all in a Canterbury story, 1 || importuned to show her mine, but declined it. thought she would never have done with it. She said she several times perceived her to be in! Why, truly, I thought she was very careful to let | disorder, and to restrain herself with great diffithee know she was but a cook-maid. Ay," says culty; and once or twice she muttered to herself I, “and at a gaming-house, or gaming-ordinary, I that she had found it out, or that she would find and at the other end of the town too; all which it out, she could not tell whether; and that she (by the way) she might know, would add very || often saw tears in her eyes ; that when I said my little to her good name among us citizens." suit of Turkish clothes was put up, but that she

"I can't think,” says the Quaker “but she | should see it when we arrived in Holland, she had some other drift in that long discourse ; || beard her say softly, she would go over on purthere's something else in her head,” says she, pose then. “ I am satisfied of that." Thought I, are you sa- | After she had ended her observations, I added. tisfied of it? I am sure I am the less satisfied “ I observed, too, that the girl looked and talked for that; at least 'tis but small satisfaction to me oddly, and that she was very inquisitive; but I, to hear you say so. What can this be ? says I, I could not imagine what she aimed at." — * Aimed and when will my uneasiness have an end? But at," says the Quaker, “'tis plain to me what she this was silent, and to myself, you may be sure. || aims at. She believes that thou art the same But in answer to my friend, the Quaker, I re- || Roxana that danced in the Turkish vest, but she turned, by asking her a question or two about it ; /) is not certain."_" Does she believe so ? " says I, as what she thought was in it? and why she “ If I had thought that, I would have put her thought there was anything in it? For, savs I, llout of her pain." - "Believe so !" says the she can have nothing in it relating to me. Quaker, “ Yes; and I began to beliere so too,

and should have believed so still, if thou had'st || This was just what I wantea; for I had, as not satisfied me to the contrary by thy taking no you have heard, a thousand good reasons why I notice of it, and by what thou hast said since."- should put off the voyage, especially with that “Should you have believed so," said I, warmly, ! creature in company; but I had a mind the put“I am very sorry for that. Why, would you ting it off should be at his motion, not my own; have taken me for an actress, or a French stage and he came into it of himself, just as I would player?"_“ No," says the good, kind creature, have had it. This gave me an opportunity to “thou carriest it too far; as soon as thou mad'st hang back a little, and to secm as if I was unthy reflections upon her, I knew it could not be : / willing : I told him, I could not abide to put him but who could think any other when she described to difficulties and perplexities in his business ; the Turkish dress which thou hast here, with the that now he had hired the great cabin in the ship, head tire and jewels, and when she named thy and, perhaps, paid some of the money, and, it maid Amy too, and several other circumstances | may be, taken freight for goods; and to make concurring? I should certainly have believed him break it all off again would be a needless it,” said she, “if thou hadst not contradicted it ; charge to him, or, perhaps, a damage to the but as soon as I heard thee speak, I concluded it || captain. was otherwise.” “ That was very kind,” said I, As to that, he said, it was not to be named, " and I am obliged to you for doing me so much and he would not allow it to be any consideration justice; it is more, it seems, than that young at all; that he could easily pacify the captain of talking creature does.”_" Nay," says the Quaker, the ship by telling him the reason of it, and that “indeed she does not do thee justice; for she if he did make him some satisfaction for the disas certainly believes it still, as ever she did.”_ | appointment, it should not be much. ** Does she?" said I ;_" Aye,” says the Quaker ; | “But, my dear," says J, “you have not heard “and I warrant thee she will make thee another me say I am with child, neither can I say so ; visit about it.”—“ Will she ?" says I; “then 1 and if it should not be so at last, then I shall believe I shall downright affront her.”-“ No, thou have made a fine piece of work of it indeed ; shalt not affront her,” says she, (full of her good besides,” says I, “the two ladies, the captain's bumour and temper,)“ I will take that part on wife and her sister, they depend upon our going my hands, for I will affront her for thee, and not over, and have made great preparations, and all let her see thee." I thought that was a very in compliment to me; what must I say to kind offer, but was at a loss how she would be them ?" * able to do it; and the thought of seeing her “ Well, my dear," says he, “ if you should not again half distracted me, not knowing that be with child, though I hope you are, yet there is temper she would come in, much less what man- / no harm done ; the staying three or four months ner to receive her in; but my fast friend and longer in England will be no damage to me, and constant comforter the Quaker said she perceived we can go when we please, when we are sure you the girl was impertinent, and that I had no incli are not with child, or when it appearing that you nation to converse with her, and she was resolved!) are with child, you shall be down and up again ; I should not be troubled with her. But I shall and as for the captain's wife and sister, leave that have occasion to say more of this presently ; for part to me; I'll answer for it there shall be no this girl went further yet than I thought she quarrel raised upon the subject ; I'll make your had.

excuse to them by the captain hiinself, so all will It was now time, as I said before, to take || be well enough there, I warrant you." measures with my husband, in order to put off This was as much as I could desire ; and thus my voyage; so I fell into talk with him one it rested for a while. I had indeed some anxious morning, as he was dressing, and while I was in thoughts about this impatient girl, but believed bed; I pretended I was very ill; and as I had that putting off the voyage would have put an but too easy a way to impose upon him, because end to it all, so I began to be pretty easy ; but I he so absolutely believed every thing I said, so I found myself mistaken, for I was brought to the inanaged my discourse so as that he should un- point of destruction by her again, and that in the derstand by it I was a breeding, though I did not | most unaccountable manoer imaginable. tell him so,

My husband, as he and I had agreed, meeting However, I brought it about so handsomely, the captain of the ship, took the freedom to tell that before he went out of the room he came and him, that he was afraid he must disappoint him, sat down by the bed-side, and began to talk very for that something had fallen out which had seriously to me upon the subject, about my being obliged him to alter his measures, and that his so every day ill, and that, as he hoped I was with farnily could not be ready to go time enough for child, he wouldhave me consider well of it, whether Thad not best alter my thoughts of the voyage to “ I know the occasion, sir," says the captain ; Holland; for that being sea-sick, and which was “ I hear your lady has got a daughter more than worse, if a storm should happen, might be very || she expected; I give you joy of it."-" What do dangerously in me. And after saying abundance you mean by that ?" says my spouse.--" Nay, of the kindest things that the kindest of husbands nothing," says the captain, “but what I hear the in the world could say, he concluded, that it was|| women tattle over the tea-lable. I know nohis request to me, that I would not think anything, but that you do not go the voyage upon more of going till after all should be over; but it. which I am sorry for; but you know your that I would, on the contrary, prepare to lie-in!I own affairs," added the captain," " that is no buwhere I was, and where I knew as well as he, I | siness of mine." could be very well provided, and very well as. 1 “ Well but," says my husband, “I must make sisted.

you some satisfaction for the disappointment,"

him.

it.

and so he pulls out his money. "No, no," says, know, and persuaded me to compose myself, and the captain; and so they fell to straining their not to cry so. “Why madam, if my master compliments one upon another; but, in short, should come up now," says she, “ he will see my spouse gave him three or four guineas, and what a disorder you are in; he will know you made him take it; and so the first discourse have been crying, and then he will want to know went off again, and they had no more of it. the cause of it." With that I broke out again,

But it did not go off so easily with me ; for “O, he knows it already, Amy," says I, *he now, in a word, the clouds began to thicken about knows all! It is all discovered, and we are un. me, and I had alarms on every side. My husband done !" Amy was thunderstruck now indeed. told me what the captain had said; but very “ Nay," says Amy, “if that be true, we are un. happily took it, that the captain had brought a I done indeed; but that can never be ; that is tale by halves, and having heard it one way, had impossible, I am sure." told it another; and that neither could he under. * No, no,” says I, “it is far from impossible, stand the captain, neither did the captain under. || for I tell you it is so ;" and by this time, being a stand himself, so he contented himself to tell me, little recovered, I told her what discourse my he said, word for word, as the captain delivered husband and the captain had had together, and

what the captain had said. This put Amy into How I kept my husband from discovering my such a hurry, that she cried, she raved, she disorder you shall hear presently; but let it suf swore and cursed like a mad thing ; then she opffce to say just now, that if my husband did not braided me, that I would not let her kill tbe girl understand the captain, nor the captain under when she would have done it, and that it was all stand himself, yet I understood them both very my own doing, and the like. Well, however, I well; and, to tell the truth, it was a worse shock was not for killing the girl yet; I could not bear than ever I had had yet. Invention supplied me. the thoughts of that neither. indeed, with a sudden motion to avoid shewing We spent half an hour in these extravagancies, my surprize; for as my spouse and I were sitting and brought nothing out of them neither; for by a little table near the fire, I reached out my indeed we could do nothing or say nothing that hand, as if I had intended to take a spoon which was to the purpose ; for if anything was to come lay on the other side, and threw one of the out-of-the-way, there was no hindering it, nor candles off the table; and then snatching it up, | help for; so after thus giving vent to myself by started up upon my feet, and stooped to the lap crying, I began to reflect how I had left my of my gown, and took it in my hand; “O "' says spouse below, and what I had pretended to come I, “my gown is spoiled; the candle has greased up sor; so I changed my gown that I pretended it prodigiously." This furnished me with an ex the candle fell upon, and put on another, and cuse to my spouse to break off the discourse for went down. the present, and call Amy down; and Amy not When I had been down a good while, and coming presently, I said to him, “My dear, I | found my spouse did not fall into the story again, must run up stairs and put it off, and let Amy as I expected, I took heart and called for it. clean it a little." So my husband rose up too, “ My dear," said I, “the fall of the candle pot and went into a closet where he kept his papers you out of your history; won't you go on with and books, and fetched out a book, and sat down it?"-"What history?” says he. —" Why," says by himself to read.

I, “about the captain."_." Oh," says he, I had Glad I was that I had got away, and up I ran done with it; I know no more than the captain to Amy, who, as it happened, was alone. “0, told a broken piece of news that he had heard by Amy!" says 1, “ we are all utterly undone." And halves, and told more by halvės than he heard; with that, I burst out a crying, and could not namely, of your being with child, and that you speak a word for a great while.

could not go the voyage." I cannot help saying, that some very good re- 1 perceived my husband entered not into tbe flections offered themselves upon this head; it || thing at all, but took it for a story, which being presently occurred - What a glorious testimony | told two or three times over. was puzzleri an it is to the justice of Providence, and to the con- || come to nothing; and that all that was meant be cern Providence has in guiding all the affairs of it was, what he knew, or thought he kner men, (even the least as well as the greatest,) | already, viz., that I was with child, which be that the most secret crimes are, by the most wished might be true. unforeseen accidents, brought to light and dis His ignorance was a cordial to my soul, and I covered

cursed them in my thoughts that should ever Another reflection was-How just it is that undeceive bim; and as I saw him willing to have sin and shame follow one another so constantly the story end there, as not worth being further at the heels; that they are not like attendants mentioned, I closed it too; and said, I supposed

nlv. but like cause and consequence, necessarily ll the captain had it from his wife ; she might have connected one with another; that the crime found somebody else to make her remarks upon. going before, the scandal is certain to follow; ] and so it passed off with my husband well and that it is not in the power of human nature enough, and I was still safe there, where I thought to conceal the first or avoid the last.

myself in most danger. But I had two uneasie " What shall I do, Amy?" said I, as soon as I'nesses still; the first was, lest the captain and could speak, “and what will become of me?" || my spouse 'should meet again, and enter into fa. And then I cried again so vehement.y that lllher discourse about it; the second was, lest the could say no more a great while. Amy was busy impertinent girl should come again, ard frightened almost out of her wits, but knew no- | when she came, how to prevent ber seeing Afs, thing what the matter was; but she begged to which was an article as material as any of the rest ; for seeing Amy would have been as fatal to || I had been ; that all the satisfaction I could make me as her knowing all the rest.

11 him was to live virtuously for the time to come, As to the first of these, I knew the captain Il not being able to retrieve what had been in time could not stay in town above a week; but that past; and this I resolved upon, though had the, his ship being already full of goods, and fallen great temptation offered, as it did afterwards, I down the river, he must soon follow ; so I con had reason to question my stability. But of that trived to carry my husband somewhere out of hereafter.

town for a few days, that they might be sure not After my husband had thus kindly given up | to meet.

his measures to mine, we resolved to set out in My greatest concern was where we should go. the morning early. I told him that my project, At last I fixed upon North-Hall; not, I said, that if he liked it, was to go to Tunbridge, and he, I would drink the waters, but that I thought the being entirely passive in the thing, agreed to it air was good, and might be for my advantage. Il with the greatest willingness; but said, if I had He, who did everything upon the foundation of not named Tunbridge, he would have named obliging me, readily came into it, and the coach Newmarket, there being a great court there, and was appointed to be ready the next morning, abundance of fine things to be seen. I offered but as we were settling matters, he put in an him another piece of hypocrisy here, for I preugly word that thwarted all my designs; and that tended to be willing to go thither, as the place was, that he had rather I would stay till of his choice, but indeed I would not have gone afternoon, for that he should speak to the cap for a thousand pounds; for the court being there tain next morning, if he could, to give him some at that time, I durst not run the hazard of being letters, which he could do, and be back again known at a place where there were so many eyes about twelve o'clock.

that had seen me before. So that, after some I said " Ay, by all means." But it was a time, I told my husband that I thought New. cheat on him; and my voice and my heart dis market was so full of people at that time, that fered; for I resolved, if possible, he should not we should get no accommodation; that seeing come near the captain, nor see him, whatever the court and the crowd was no entertainment to came of it.

me, unless as it might be so to him, that if he In the evening therefore, a little before we went thought fit, we would rather put it off for another to bed, I pretended to have altered my mind, and || time; and that if, when we went to Holland, we that I would not go to North Hall, but I had a I should go by Harwich, we might take round by mind to go another way; but I told him I was || Newmarket and Bury, and so come to Ipswich, afraid his business would not permit him; he and go from thence to the sea-side. He was wanted to know where it was. I told him, easily put off from this, as he was from anything smiling, I would not tell him, lest it should oblige else that I did not approve ; and so with all imahim to hinder his business. He answered with I ginable facility he appointed to be ready early the same temper, but with infinitely more sin in the morning to go with me for Tunbridge. cerity, that he had no business of such conse I had a double design in this, viz.-first, to get quence as to hinder him going with ine anywhere away my spouse from seeing the captain any I had a mind to go. “ Yes," says I, “ you want more; and secondly, to be out of the way my. to speak with the captain before he goes away." self, in case this impertinent girl, who was now “Why, that's true," says he, “So I do," and my plague, should offer to come again, as my paused a while; and then added—“But I'll | friend the Quaker believed she would, and as write a note to a man that does business for me, | indeed happened within two or three days afterto go to him ; it is only to get some bills of lad wards. ing signed, and he can do it.” When I saw I had li Having thus secured my going away the next gained my point, I seemed to hang back a little. | day, I had nothing to do but to furnish my faith“My dear,” says I, “don't hinder an hour's busi ful agent the Quaker with some instruction what ness for me; I can put it off for a week or two, to say to this tormentor, (for such she proved rather than you shali do yourself any prejudice." || afterwards,) and how to manage her, if she made “No, no," says he, “you shall not put off an any more visits than ordinary. hour for me ; for I can do my business by proxy I had a great mind to leave Amy behind too, with

body but my wife." And then he took || as an assistant, because she understood so per1. " his arms and kissed me. How did my || fectly well what to advise upon any emergency ;

d flush up into my face, when I reflected how I and Amy importuned me to do so; but I know sincerely, low affectionately this good-humoured not what secret impulse prevailed over my kumueinan embraced this most cursed piece of thoughts against it; I could not do it, for fear hypocrisy that ever came into the arms of an the wicked jade should make her away, which honest man! His was all tenderness, and the my very soul abhorred the thoughts of; which, utmost sincerity ; mine all grimace and deceit however, Amy found means to bring to pass a piece of mere menage, and framed conduct to afterwards, as I may in time relate more particu. conceal a passed life of wickedness, and prevent |larly. his discovering that he had in his arms a she

li It is true I wanted as much to be delivered Mose whole conversation for twenty-five from her as ever a sick man did from a third-day

"au been black as hell, a complication of lague: and had she dropped into the grave by crimes; and for which, had he been let into it,

any fair way, as I may call it, I mean, had she he must have abhorred me, and the very men

died of any ordinary distemper, I should have tion of my name. But there was no help for me

shed but very few tears for her. But I was not in it; all I had to satisfy myself was, that it was

arrived to such a pitch of obstinate wickedness ess to be what I was, and conceal what' as to commit murder, especially such as to mur.

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der my own child, or so much as to harbour all such method; nor does the Lady - desire any thought so barbarous in my mind. But, as I || such kind of service from me, as I know of. if said, Amy effected all afterwards, without my || she had been in the house I should have told knowledge, for which I gave her my hearty | thee so." curse, though I could do little more ; for to have She said little to that; but said, It was fallen upon Amy had been to have murdered | business of the utmost importance that she myself. But this tragedy requires a longer story | desired to speak with me about ; and then cried than I have room for here. I return to my again very much. journcy.

“ Thou seemest to be sorely afflicted," says the My dear friend the Quaker was kind, and yet Quaker; “I wish I could give thee any relief; honest, and would do anything that was just and but if nothing will comfort thee but seeing the upright to serve me, but nothing wicked or dis- | Lady - it is not in my power." honourable. That she might be able to say “I hope it is,” says she again ; "to be sure, it boldly to the creature, if she came, she did not is of great consequence to me; so much, that I know where I was gone, she desired I would not || am undone without it." let her know; and to make her ignorance the “Thou troublest me very much to hear thee more absolutely safe to herself, and likewise to say so," says the Quaker'; “but why, then, me, I allowed her to say that she heard us talk of did'st thou not speak to her apart when thou going to Newmarket, &c. She liked that part, | wast here before ?" and I left all the rest to her, to act as she thought || “I had no opportunity," says she, "to speak fit, only charged her, that if the girl entered into | to her alone, and I could not do it in company; the story of the Pallmall, she should not enter- || if I could have spoken but two words to her alone tain much talk about it, hut let her understand, | I would have thrown myself at her feet, and that we all thought she spoke of it a little too asked her blessing." particularly: and that the lady (meaning me) “I am surprised at thee; I do not understand took it a little ill, to be so likened to a public | thee,” says the Quaker. mistress, or a stage-player, and the like; and so “O!” says she, “stand my friend, if you have to bring her, if possible, to say no more of it. || any charity, or if you have any compassion for However, though I did not tell my friend the l the miserable ; for I am utterly undone !" Quaker how to write to me, or where I was, yet « Thou terrifiest me," says the Quaker, "with I left a sealed paper with her maid to give her,

such passionate expressions ! for verily I cannot in which I gave her a direction how to write to

comprehend thee !" Amy, and so in effect to myself. It was but a few days after I was gone, but the

“O!" says she," she is my mother ! she is my impatient girl came to my lodgings on pretence

mother! and she does not own me!” to see how I did, and to hear if I intended to go

“Thy mother!" says the Quaker; and began the voyage, and the like. My trusty agent was

ll to be greatly moved indeed; “I am astonished at at home, and received her coldly at the door ;

|| thee ; what dost thou mean?" but told her that the lady, which she supposed

“I mean nothing but what I say," says she; she meant, was gone from her house.

“ I say again, she is my mother and will not This was a full stop to all she could say for a

own me ;” and with that she stopped with a

flood of tears. good while; but as she stood musing some time at the door, considering what to begin a talk

“ Not own thee !" says the Quaker; and the upon, she perceived my friend the Quaker looked l tender

d the Quaker looked || tender creature wept too; “why, she says she a little uneasy, as if she wanted to go in and

does not know thee, and never saw thee before.* shut the door, which stung her to the quick ; “No," says the girl, “I believe she does not and the wary Quaker had not so much as asked | know me, but I know her; and I know that she her to come in; for seeing her alone, she expected | is my mother." she would be very impertinent, and concluded | “It's impossible ! thou talkest mystery !" says that I did not care how coldly she received her. the Quaker ; "wilt thou explain thyself a little to

But she was not to be put off so. She said if || me?" the Lady was not to be spoken with, she “ Yes, yes," says she, “I can explain it well desired to speak two or three words with her, enough; I am sure she is my mother, and I bare meaning my friend the Quaker. Upon that the broke my heart to search for her; and to lose her

Qnaker civilly, but coldly, asked her to walk in, ll again, when I was so sure I had found her, which was what she wanted. Note.- She did break my heart more effectually.” not carry her into her best parlour, as formerly, "Well, but if she by thy mother," says the but into a little outer room, where the servants | Quaker, “how can it be that she should not usually waited.

know thee?” By the first of her discourse she did not stick “Alas !” says she, “I have been lost to be to insinuate as if she believed I was in the house, ever since I was a child; she has never seen but was unwilling to be seen; and pressed me." earnestly that she might speak but two words “And hast thou never seen her?" says the with me; to which she added earnest entreaties, || Quaker. and at last tears."

« Yes,” says she, “I have seen her, often “I am sorry," says my good old creature, the || enough, I saw her; for when she was the Laos Quaker, “thou hast so ill an opinion of me as | Roxana I was her housemaid, being a serran, to think I would tell thee an untruth, and say Il but I did not know her then, nor she me; but I that the Lady was gone from my house, if || has all come out since. Has she not a mai she was notI assure thee I did not use any ll named Amy?” Note._ The honest Quaker F

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