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Various

"Gifts of Genius A Miscellany of Prose and Poetry by American Authors"

Among the convalescents, out on the balconies to
catch a breath of the pure air, was a naval officer in a gilt cap, reading
a novel; and all looked snug and encouraging. On entering, I asked the
attendant, a gaunt-looking Englishman, who in his musty black suit, was
not unlike a carrion crow or a turkey buzzard, whether there was any
serious case of illness in the hospital. "There are two consumptives,"
said he, "who've been a deceiving us for the last two weeks." He seemed to
think it a very base fraud that these two consumptives had not died when
he and the doctor thought it was their duty to do so, some fortnight
before.
Coming from the one hill to another, I reached a miserable quarter of the
town, called by the sailors the "foretop." It was composed of rude mud
hovels, stuffed with a population of half-breeds, a half-naked
gipsy-looking people, grovelling in the dirt, and breathing an atmosphere
reeking with the stench of filth, garlic and frying fat. I was glad to
escape, and get to the "Star Hotel," where, refreshing myself with a chop
and brown stout, I could fancy myself, with hardly an effort of the
imagination, taking my dinner at an ordinary in the Strand.


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