In this state, he was laid upon a bench, to sleep off his drunken fit, while his wretched mother, in spite of her passionate supplications and resistance, was, by Blueskin's command, forcibly ejected from the house, and driven out of the Mint. "My mother,—my poor mother!" exclaimed Jack. You know very well that you took from my easel David Courtlaw’s study of me, and sent it to Cariolus.
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