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. There came a wild rush of anthropological lore into her brain, a flare of indecorous humor. While he was filling his pockets with golden coin from this store, Blueskin had pulled the plate-chest from under the bed, and having forced it open, began filling a canvass bag with its contents,—silver coffee-pots, chocolate-dishes, waiters trays, tankards, goblets, and candlesticks. This was the bitterest hour he had ever known. I feel at moments as though I could bolt for it. She wanted to stay where she was; but tears were dangerous; the more she wept, the weaker she would become defensively.
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