Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. . . He spent a good deal more money and time than he could afford upon the little room at the top of the house, in producing new lapidary apparatus and new microscopic accessories and in rubbing down slices of rock to a transparent thinness and mounting them in a beautiful and dignified manner. Then a roar of hisses. " "Not in the least," replied Shotbolt, creeping beneath the table; "there's my staff. " "Mercy!" cried Mrs. Michelle smiled. " "Somebody coming?" "Yes.
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