A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. It seemed to encapsulate the mosquito like a little piece of moonlight, it was talismanic to her. "Ah! but," said I, "there's a great deal in being hanged. ’ ‘Ain’t you in a rage?’ asked the captain.
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