His shirt was unfastened, his vest unbuttoned, his hose ungartered; his feet were stuck into a pair of pantoufles, his arms into a greasy flannel dressing-gown, his head into a thrum-cap, the cap into a tie-periwig, and the wig into a gold-edged hat. On reaching the churchyard, he perceived the melancholy procession descending the hill. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. ” She replied.
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