I was forced to lay on a bed of nails for three days. "Gracious Heaven!—is she the inmate of a mad-house?" "She is, Sir," answered the woollen-draper, sadly, "driven there by her son's misconduct. My letters are returned unopened, her maid will not even allow me across the doorstep. Once over the iron spikes, Bess exhibited no reluctance to be let down on the other side of the wall.
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